The Cottage In Hogsmeade
by Tirzah A. McGaffin
Summary: Part 2 in the Marauders' Trilogy! Remus Lupin never thought he would see the halls of Hogwarts again. Old memories and enemies darken his return, but an escaped murderer and an unhappy reunion will make this one of the most trying years of his life. Rlang
1. The Last of the Marauders

**Disclaimer:** Much as I would like to claim I did, I did not come up with the idea for Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling deserves all the praise and credit we can give for creating such an amazing world. I take no profit from her characters.

**Author's Note:** Welcome, friends, to The Cottage in Hogsmeade! Enjoy and respect my story, and as always, please read and review! Today's chapter will focus entirely around your favourite werewolf and mine, Remus Lupin.

---

_November 4th, 1981._

Looking down at the striking granite stones before him, it took all of his human strength not to howl his heartbreak into the sky.

_James Vincent Potter, 1960-1981. Time, like a balm, eases the blow of loss._

_Lily Maria Potter, 1960-1981. Love so transcends that, even in Death, I am with you._

The turned soil that had once topped the graves had been covered with fresh sod since the funeral. Had it truly only been three days? Time had never been so deceptive as it had in those past three days. Remus Lupin was certain that he had aged a hundred years or more.

"I'm leaving." He spoke softly to the headstones, hesitant to disturb the blanket-like quiet of the small cemetery. "Got to find a new job. They'd been looking for an excuse to fire me… not showing up for a few days was just the thing they were waiting for. And the rent's almost due, and I can't get ends to meet…" He sighed, trying to expel some of the cold that had slowly taken over his body since he heard the news. "Besides," he continued in a whisper, squeezing his eyes shut, trying to force down the pain. "I just can't stay around here. It's too hard…"

Sorrow threatened to overwhelm him. Two—no, three—of his best friends, dead. And one… one responsible for them all…

"Remus?"

If possible, he went colder, and turned sharply. In the deepening dusk he looked down at the woman who was all he had left in the world.

"Ani," he answered quietly. She moved closer and the fragments of his heart shattered further. A pure white arrangement of roses, moonflowers, gardenias and orchids foamed in her arms, dazzling against her staid, simple black mourning dress. Her eyes, once sparkling and incandescent, now looked shuttered and blank. His mind flashed. He hadn't seen her since he found out that James and Lily were dead… Not since that horrible night, the mere memory of which caused shame to smolder within him.

"What are you doing here?" she questioned, avoiding his gaze and stepping past him to lay the flowers on the graves.

"Saying goodbye," he confessed, and she turned her wide eyes to him in confusion. "I got fired. I have to leave to find work."

"Can't you find work here?" Ani asked him, a hitch in her voice.

He shook his head and had to turn away from the pain he could see in her face. "Even if I could, my rent's due, and I've been late for the past three months… they, too, are just waiting until they can boot me out."

The cogs in her mind seemed to be working furiously. "Well," she faltered, searching for an alternative, "if you wanted you could stay with me… I could help you out, just until you find your feet again…"

A pride that rarely surfaced bubbled up and he shook his head fiercely before she'd even finished. "I won't be a burden or in debt to you, Ani."

"For Merlin's sake, Remus, it's not a _burden_. I'm inviting you!"

"Even if I wanted to, Ani—which I don't—I wouldn't," he repeated.

"Why not?" The shutters behind her eyes had cracked open and he could see indignation and hurt forming there. For some reason the expression was almost as painful as the memory of the recently dead. He forced himself to ignore it.

"I just… I need to get _away_," he tried to explain. She took a step away from him, her eyes narrowing. "Being here, being constantly reminded of what's happened—God, it's bloody unbearable, I just can't deal with it, Ani." He couldn't meet her gaze.

"Remus," Ani tried, moving forward again. "Remus, we're _friends._ And after all that's happened, we need each other now more than ever. Please, let me help…" She reached out for him.

He pushed her hand away and tried to ignore the shock that blossomed over her face. "No," he said firmly. "I know what I need, Ani, and I can't get that by staying here with you. If I'm around you, I'll never stop thinking about—"

"Alright," she cut him off tartly. "You don't have to say anymore. I get it."

He forgot to avoid those remarkable eyes, and when he looked at her, they snapped at him from the darkness. "Well, I can't make you stay," Ani continued, her voice honed to a razor sharp edge. "And now I'm not even sure that I want to." Her voice started to shake, the anger rapidly becoming eclipsed by sadness. He had to turn away from it. "I just never thought that the one person I've got left to count on—_the one person_ who understands what I'm going through—would abandon me, too."

Against his will, anguish gushed over him. "Ani," he murmured, turning back to face her. But as quickly as she had come, she was gone again: the night was blacker because of it. The flowers the only evidence of her presence, and even they looked less beautiful without her arms around them.

Remus was alone.

---

_February 10th, 1982._

The stern looking account manager handed Remus his last pay-bag. "Your severance pay will be deposited to your account within four work days and an official statement will be Owled to your home," she droned through pursed lips. "Security personnel will escort your from the premises."

"I can find my own way out," Remus muttered, pocketing the very light bag of gold and turning on his heel.

"It is the policy of the _Daily Prophet_ bookkeeping staff that upon dismissal you are escorted by security," the woman replied shrilly. Remus waved his hand in exasperated acceptance and no sooner had he reached the accounting office door did a guard appeared.

The square-jawed guard (who really couldn't have been more than two years out of Hogwarts, making Remus feel ridiculously old) stayed stoic and silent and for that Remus was grateful. He had already had enough of the stares and behind-the-hands whispers that were now following him out the door. __

_I can't believe they hired one of _his _kind! _

He resisted the urge to snarl under his breath, schooling his temper down to an icy silence. He would rage in private.

Finally, after ages of walking, they reached the exit—the _public_ exit, Remus noticed, no longer the staff exit. The young guard opened the door and nodded toward it curtly. Remus wanted nothing better than to lay a fist to that smug, set jaw but decided against it. Instead he swept a mocking, sketching bow and strode out of the door.

It snapped shut behind him and Remus narrowly avoided kicking a dustbin nearby in his frustration. "That's the second bleeding job in three months," he muttered, jamming his hands into his pockets as he stalked down the street. "At this rate, I'm going to wind up a dishwasher at some Muggle pub!"

He stopped in a shop doorway, forcing himself to take deep, calming breaths. If he thought about it rationally, now was probably the best time of the month to be fired. The full moon was rapidly approaching, so he could hide in his flat and transform without having to worry about missing work. Yet… on the other hand… Remus sighed. As usual, late rent was nipping at his heels, and the stringy, creeping landlord of the flat where he now stayed had taken to haunting the hall outside Remus' flat whenever he came home. _Thank God for Apparating,_ Remus thought.

An uncharacteristic sense of panic started to overwhelm him. He could not deny that things were falling rapidly apart and that the walls were steadily closing in on him. It had been months since he'd felt relaxed or at ease. This lifestyle was affecting his sleep—he was lucky to get three solid hours most nights. This could not go on much longer, or he would surely go mad.

_What you need,_ a voice whispered in his mind, _is someone to talk to, before you go mad. Someone who can help you through this._

Without another thought, Remus furtively looked around him and, seeing no one else, focused the particles of his mind on where he most wanted to be.

_Crack!_

He landed, quicker than a blink, with a thud in a quiet hallway. The building just on the outskirts of London where Ani Hellsing lived was always clean and brightly lit, as opposed to the past few places that he, Remus, had occupied. The number 111 gleamed against the freshly painted green door and the carpet beneath his feet had yet to be worn through. It was, Remus had decided long ago, a welcoming place. He only hoped he would still receive a welcome from the woman within. Though, if she slammed the door in his face, he wouldn't be at all surprised.

Absently he ran a hand over his hair, growing ever more aware at the threads of grey that were beginning to shoot through the strands. He hadn't seen or heard from Ani since November, though he'd been tempted to contact her almost daily. His behavior after James and Lily's deaths still made him slightly queasy to think about—he knew that he'd been dreadful to Ani, that he had not handled the situation well at all. These things had kept him away: but now, more than ever, he needed to lay aside the past and speak to his best friend again. Almost four months apart was far, far too much.

He conjured up a daisy (_It's got a kind of school boy charm,_ he rationed to himself) and clutched it in his hand as he knocked timidly on the door of the flat. Footfalls were heard, and a moment later the door swung slowly inward.

Remus blinked hard. The tall, buxom black witch behind the door smiled politely. "May I help you?" she asked. Her eyes flicked from the daisy in his hand to his slightly tattered robes, then focused with mild curiosity back on his face.

"I'm terribly sorry," he stammered when he found his tongue. "I was looking for Ani Hellsing…she lives in this flat. Or, at least, she used to." He peered around her as unobtrusively as possible. Not even Ani's elegant, simple furniture remained. The décor of the flat was now slick and ultramodern.

"No, I'm sorry: I've been here for about three months now," the woman informed him, causing Remus' head to swim ever faster.

_Three months! What's happening?_ he thought desperately. _Where has Ani gone?_

"Mr. Lupin?"

He whirled around. Carolyn Dean, Ani's landlady with whom she was very friendly and to whom Remus had been introduced on numerous occasions, stood in the doorway to the flat she occupied just several doors down. "I thought I heard your voice," the elderly witch said, her cloud grey eyes warm behind thick spectacles. "What are you doing here?"

Remus turned back to the occupant of number 111. "I'm terribly sorry for disturbing you," he said quietly. He turned away and walked quickly over to Mrs. Dean, taking her outstretched hand in greeting. "I was looking for Ani… it seems she's moved. We haven't spoken in awhile, obviously—would you be so kind as to tell me where I might find her?"

To his immediate distress, Mrs. Dean shook her closely cropped silver hair. "I wish I could, m'dear," she said sadly. She caught Remus' look of shock and said gently, "Come inside, love, and have a cuppa. We'll talk there."

"No," Remus declined instantly, his thoughts whirling. His breath was coming out strangely shallow. "No, thank you, Mrs. Dean. Please… you don't know _anything_ about where Ani's gone? Surely she's just moved to another building in town. Perhaps someplace closer to St. Mungo's, so she can be on call? She is the head resident, after all."

"Your guess is as good as mine, Mr. Lupin. About three months ago she showed up at my door, paid her last rent in full and turned in her key." The elderly woman shook her head. "I wouldn't have thought anything about it I hadn't been watching her and seen the taxi."

"What's so unusual about a taxicab?" Remus asked, bewildered.

"'Tweren't any wizard taxicab, Mr. Lupin," Mrs. Dean said earnestly. She lowered her voice and said, "It was one of them _Muggle_ taxis. Strangest thing I ever saw in my life, coo! Filthy dirty and small—I never saw a wizard car so squashed on the inside. Anyway, I know it was a Muggle taxi because the driver was about as thick as a toadstool, carrying Ani's boxes in by hand, Ani not raising a wand to help. I watched as she gave him directions and then, next thing I knew, they were gone." She sighed sympathetically at Remus' blank, stunned expression and patted his arm. "I'm sure she's not far away, Mr. Lupin… perhaps you ought to call her people or St. Mungo's, see if they know where she's gone. I wish I could have been more help to you."

"No," Remus heard himself say, "no, you've been quite helpful. And yes, I think I'll speak with Ani's family." He put out his hand and shook hers, barely knowing what he did. "Thank you very much, Mrs. Dean. Might I use your Floo?"

"Of course, dear."

Heart pounding, hands shaking, Remus followed her into her flat, which smelled of ammonia and cats. She held out a tiny purple jar and removed the lid. Remus took a pinch and set a fire in the grate with his wand. Without another word he tossed the powder into the flames, which turned bright green and leapt into the air. He stepped into them and said dully, "21 Smythwick Circle."

With a whirl and a roar, he was gone. The daisy fell lifelessly into the ashes of the fireplace.

---

Remus felt certain he was going to be sick.

"I wish I knew what to tell you, lad." Bearded, white-haired Cephas Hellsing carefully set his teacup down on the table. "Her mother's nearly sick with worry, and poor Ghost is beside himself…" He looked at the peg on the other side of the kitchen where Ani's old, yet still handsome, barn owl sat perched, quietly dozing. "When she sent him to us she told me to make sure he stayed here; he misses her greatly."

"She didn't even _hint_ as to where she was going?" Remus tried desperately, clutching the parchment with the green ink in his hand. "You're her father, you must know something. I understand if she asked you not to tell me, but this is important."

But Ani's father shook his head. "I'd tell you if I knew. All I've got is the letter she sent—and I've shown you that," he said wearily. "She just said she was leaving, that she would try to stay in touch, and not to worry."

He tried again. "But what about her job?" Remus asked. "Ani's always wanted to work at St. Mungo's; she's their top resident. Surely she just wouldn't leave?"

"I thought that too," Mr. Hellsing answered. "I even went down there one day, talked to the chief of staff. Apparently she handed in her notice, wrapped up whatever cases she'd been seeing to, and left. At first I thought maybe she would have transferred to another location, one of the smaller country hospitals… but nothing."

He sighed and suddenly seemed very, very old. "I knew that losing Lily and James would be hard for her, but I had no idea it would come to this," remarked Mr. Hellsing quietly. "But between that and what _he_ did to her… I suppose I should have seen it coming." He shook his head darkly and leveled a serious look with Remus. "And, you'll forgive me for saying so, but I know that she took it hard when you left too, Remus."

Sick, hot shame filled his stomach as Mr. Hellsing went on. "She thinks the world of you, Ani does… I went to visit her a few days after Lily and James' funeral and she just looked like someone lost. It breaks a father's heart to see his daughter that way." He traced one long finger around the rim of his teacup. "I only wish I knew where she'd gone to," he finished sadly.

Remus stood, his knees shaking slightly, Mr. Hellsing following suit. "Thank you," he said automatically, sticking out a hand to shake. "You'll let me know if you hear anything, won't you?"

"Of course, Remus," Mr. Hellsing said, clapping a hand on the younger man's shoulder. "Come by some other time when Cassie's home… I'm sure she'd love to see you."

"I'll do that," Remus lied.

As he bid Mr. Hellsing goodbye a few minutes later, the nausea still had not left Remus' body. He climbed into the Floo and spoke his address wearily. When he arrived at home he stumbled through the flat, collapsing on the dilapidated couch that sat in the middle of the bare room. He threw an arm over his eyes, forced himself to take slow, calming breaths. He could not believe this.

Ani—Ani, his only friend left in the world—was gone. _She was gone._ Guilt threatened to choke him. It was his fault! It was all his fault!

"I walked out on her," he said aloud to the blank walls. "I left her when she needed me most. And now… now that I need her… she's gone too."

A howl of misery clawed at his throat and for the first time in many months, Remus broke down and bitterly wept.


	2. Welcome Back, Remus

**Disclaimer:** Though it might be nice to be the genius that owns the rights to Harry Potter and be filthy rich because of it, I am most definitely neither.

**Author's Note:** As usual, thank you so very much for the reviews that you left and as always, feel free to leave more! And as a special message for **Flesca**—all I have to say is, "All in due time." I've got a plan to work out! :-) And now, fast forward! This is another Remus chapter, with some other familiar faces tossed in for flavor.

---

_July 31st, 1993._

"Welcome aboard, Professor Lupin."

Remus forced himself to remain calm as he gripped Albus Dumbledore's long, thin hand. But even intense self-discipline could not keep a broad grin off of his face. _Professor Lupin._ He might never get used to that.

"I cannot thank you enough for what you're doing for me, sir," he replied. "I assure you, Professor, I'll do my very best."

"I have no doubt of that," the Headmaster of Hogwarts replied, his blue eyes a-twinkle. "But really, Remus… I haven't been your professor since the good year of 1977! I'm sure we would both feel more comfortable if you called me Albus."

"Easier said than done, Professor," Remus admitted sheepishly, and Dumbledore laughed.

"Yes, old habits do die hard," the old man agreed. "I suppose Professor will do for now." He pushed up from his desk and said, "Now, I'm afraid I must continue with my paperwork. I shall send for Minerva McGonagall to show you around the premises." He moved for the fireplace, sending Remus a wink. "I daresay you remember Professor McGonagall?"

He couldn't contain a laugh. He was employed again—everything was at least ten times funnier. "Of course," Remus responded, still chuckling. "I'm sure she hasn't yet forgiven me for all the mischief I was unable to keep James from getting into." Even after all these years, a slight pang went through his chest at the mention of his old friend's name.

Dumbledore echoed the laugh and took a pinch of powder from a pot atop his mantle, throwing it into the merrily crackling fire. "Minerva," he called into the green fire, "kindly come to the entrance to my office when you have a moment. I have just hired a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher—I trust you will show him to his office and help him to get—ah—acquainted."

A crisp, stern voice echoed through the fireplace, "Certainly, Headmaster," and then faded as the flames returned to their normal color and height.

"Forgive me for not escorting you downstairs, Remus," Dumbledore said graciously, sitting back at his desk. He gave a good-natured sigh. "The longer I am Headmaster the more paperwork I find I have to file. Someday I suspect I shall be buried alive in it."

"I can find my way," Remus said, gripping his tattered briefcase in one hand. He hesitated at the door. "Thank you again, Professor," he said solemnly. "I really need this job. Since that anti-werewolf legislation has gone through, it's been harder than ever to…"

"I quite understand, Professor Lupin," Dumbledore said kindly. "But I hope you will not insult the both of us by assuming that I have appointed you to this position merely because you cannot get a job elsewhere." He gestured to the parchment upon which Remus had drafted his resume. "Your credentials are quite good, and as I recall from your schooling, your Defense Against the Dark Arts marks were always at the top of your class. No, I have chosen you for this position because you are the most qualified applicant. No more or no less." He cleared his throat. "You may have the remainder of the summer to set your affairs in order. I will secure a seat for you on the Hogwarts Express on the first of September. You will arrive with the students. I will see you in a month."

Remus nodded and moved to the door, heading down the spinning spiral staircase. Just as it had many years before, Dumbledore's confidence filled him with his own assurance. He left the Headmaster's office, the wall sliding closed behind him, and looked happily down the stone corridors with their flickering torchlight and animated portraits. It was so good to be back at Hogwarts.

He busied himself with memories and within moments the sound of brisk footsteps echoed through the halls. "Welcome to Hogwarts," Minerva McGonagall's clipped voice barked from behind him. He turned to face her, smiling—it had been many years since he'd heard her voice. "I am Minerva McGonagall, Head of Gryffindor house and professor of Transfigur—"

She stopped in her tracks when she saw him, and a rare smile of surprised pleasure spread over her stern face. "Why, Remus Lupin!" she pronounced, gripping his hand as he reached out to her. She tilted her head up to him. "I can hardly believe it. _You_ are the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?"

"As of about five minutes ago," Remus answered proudly. He shook his head admiringly. "You look exactly the same, Professor."

"Hmph. Flattery will get you nowhere, Lupin," McGonagall replied, but her cheeks flushed slightly. "Well!" she said smartly, gesturing for him to follow her down the hall. "I must say that your appointment comes as a rather pleasant surprise. The position's last occupants were…" She shook her head once, then looked at him curiously. "If memory serves me, you had always expressed an interest in professorial work, did you not?"

"That's true," Remus said, a slight cloud moving over his good mood, "but it just never seemed to come into fruition." He shrugged, attempting lightness, and said, "Werewolves don't make the best teachers, apparently. In fact, if it weren't for the discovery of the wolfsbane potion, I'm not even sure Dumbledore would have considered me."

McGonagall nodded sympathetically. Years before it had been she who had walked out with him, Remus, to the Whomping Willow. It had been she who had offered sympathy and guidance in moments of anger or weakness. Remus had always been fond of McGonagall for this reason. "The Headmaster recognizes aptitude when he sees it," she remarked. "And you have always had the makings of a fine professor, Lupin, despite the company you kept."

Remus chuckled at the primness of her tone. Indeed, his old Head of House had forgotten very little. "Thank you," he replied. "I still can't get over it. When Dumbledore sent me an owl this morning, I never imagined it would be to offer me a job."

"Yes, well, at least I shall know who to blame if you prove to be incompetent," McGonagall returned and they both smiled. "Come on, then, and I'll show you to your classroom."

It was like walking backwards into a memory as McGonagall waved her wand to open the huge, heavy doors that lead to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Remus paused in the doorway and let the welcoming smell of dust and stone wash over him. The huge windows that paneled the left wall looked proudly over the lush grounds—Remus could remember many a day as summer approached that his attention had been diverted from lecture out to the inviting air and sunlight. He smiled, thinking that now it would be _he_ who would chide the students to pay attention, as his professors had done so long ago. The sensation was strangely pleasurable.

"It's like falling back in time," he remarked as he and McGonagall left the huge classroom again. "I never thought I'd be back here …" Remus laughed softly to himself. "James was always certain that they'd have jinxed the perimeter to keep us from coming back after we'd graduated."

"I, at least, was sorely tempted," McGonagall answered wryly, but her sharp eyes softened at the mention of James. "I'd have been thwarted in the end, however… Teaching his son is like having James with us all over again; all of the staff who remember him say so."

Remus stopped dead in his tracks. A dizzy wave washed over him and he had to shake his head twice to push off the sensation. "Oh," he murmured as McGonagall looked at him, concerned. "You mean… the boy was accepted here?" He laughed wryly. "Listen to me. Of course he was—with parents like Lily and James, how could he go anywhere else? He's nearly, what, thirteen?" He shook his head. "I can hardly believe it. That means it's been twelve years since…"

They were quiet for a moment and then resumed their walking, moving for one of the many staircases. When McGonagall spoke again, her voice was tender. "You haven't seen him since, have you?" she asked quietly.

"No." Remus shrugged. "How could I? The orders were explicit, as I recall. Harry was to be left strictly alone." He shook himself again—he had no desire to remember the old bitterness—and asked McGonagall, "I assume he's in your House?"

"Of course," McGonagall said proudly. "James and Lily's son in any other House besides Gryffindor, come now Lupin!"

"What's he like?" The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, and suddenly his curiosity was rampant.

"Like James," McGonagall said instantly. "Certainly with the same potential in terms of academics, though I find I'm most reminded of his father when I'm reprimanding him."

Remus couldn't keep from laughing, but even to his own ears the sound was sad. "Even when he was a baby, he was always getting into something," he remembered. "Lily came home from market one day when James and Sir—when James was supposed to be watching him, and the boy had gotten into her cooking flour. He was simply covered." The memory slid over him and he basked in its glow. "Lily was furious, but James couldn't speak for laughing."

"Some things never change," McGonagall replied. She paused before a large door and said, "Well. You'll see him soon enough, and you'll know for yourself then, won't you?"

"So I will," Remus said, but the thought gave him no pleasure. Instead it dredged up a sadness that was still so sharp that Remus had to massage his chest to abate the feeling.

"This will be your office," McGonagall told him. Silently, Remus followed her into it and looked speculatively around the room. It was simple: cupboard for spare robes, bookshelves, and a handsome, though slightly decrepit, desk and chair. "And then if you'll come back here—" She lead him into an adjoining room "—this will be where you sleep. It isn't much," his former professor said apologetically. "But I'm sure you'll find—"

"No," Remus interrupted, voice soft. "It's perfectly fine, Professor."

Understatement of the century. Remus felt more at home in this room of which he had been the occupant for five minutes than he had in any of the flats that he'd lived in over the course of the past twelve years. The stone walls, rather than seeming cold and blank and imposing, instead seemed warm and worn. His palm tingled as he placed it against one wall—the rock felt alive beneath his skin. A circular stained-glass window above sent streamers of cobalt, emerald, amber and crimson light trickling through the air. A strange, triangular bed was tucked into one corner and the room was finished with a small writing desk and a worn armchair before a wide-mouthed fireplace.

He turned away from the scene and smiled at McGonagall. Suddenly he felt as though he wanted to be alone. "This is just fine," he said again. "If you don't mind terribly, Professor McGonagall, I'd like to look around a bit more, familiarize myself again. Don't let me keep you if you have something else that requires your attention."

McGonagall graciously took the hint. "I do have to start compiling the book lists for the students," she said. She turned, her long robes sweeping, and then glanced over her shoulder. "While you're getting your things together, would you be so kind as to do some research and determine which book you'll be using? I need to know that and a tentative lesson plan within the fortnight."

"Of course," he said. "I'll get it done for you as soon as possible."

"Thank you," McGonagall said. She gave another rare smile. "It certainly is good to have you back, Lupin."

"Thank _you_," Remus accepted. He sighed as the door closed behind her and sat down on his new bed.

_Back at Hogwarts, _he thought, rolling the words over his mind. Nothing could dampen this for him. Some of the best years in his life were spent within these walls. _This is the start of something new, _he vowed. _I can _feel _it! This is something better. There is nothing from the past to tie me—_

He paused and abruptly stood up. _Idiot._ There _was_ something from the past here—trying to run from it was useless. Between Dumbledore and McGonagall—former members of Dumbledore's order from days of yore—now there was another element to contend with, an element that would keep him quite tightly bound to the past. Harry.

Sitting down heavily, he drew a tired hand over his face. _Harry Potter._ The boy had been small enough to blanket in one of Remus' t-shirts the last time he'd seen him. Now he was _thirteen_. Remus laughed and wondered wildly if the boy would remember him—for Remus certainly remembered Harry, who was now the closet thing he had to family left.

_Don't be stupid,_ he chided. _He was a year old: hardly old enough to speak. He most certainly won't remember you. And if he did, why would he care? You're not his father._

_But I'm as good as he's got,_ a traitorous voice whispered. _Maybe…_

Remus rolled his shoulders and forced himself to calm. "Enough. Harry is just another student I will have to teach," he said aloud, standing and moving for the door. "A student I will have to treat the same as everyone else."

It sounded good, coming from his mouth. _Let's just hope I follow through._

Somehow, though, he doubted that he could.

---

"Note to self," Remus murmured, ducking under a dusty tapestry for the third time. "Second staircase on the left changes destinations every ten minutes. Try not to get caught on it."

Having spent the bulk of the day exploring his old haunts, Remus was feeling somewhat exhausted and quite ready to head back to his old flat. He'd wandered down the halls for hours, happily mentally planning the next month before he could return.

Give my landlord notice. Start packing—oh, who are you kidding? That'll take all of ten minutes. Head to the library, find out what book I'm going to use for my class—Ha! It's unbelievable: my class! Anyway, pick a book… then leave London… Leave London… LEAVE LONDON!

But in his wanderings, he'd entirely lost track of time. He found himself deep in conversation with Sir Nicholas de Mimsy Porpington, the old Gryffindor ghost, when the growling of his stomach echoed down the halls. Bidding farewell to Nearly Headless Nick, he realized he should probably head into Hogsmeade and get some dinner before taking the Floo back to London.

"Easier said than done," he said now, turning around a step in frustration. "I'm more likely to wander around and starve to death."

He ducked through an archway that he was _almost_ certain would lead him back to the Great Hall and grunted when he saw that he'd reached a dead end. But to his immediate and immense relief, he saw a tall, thin, dark figure at the end of the hall. At last. _Who says men are too proud to ask for directions?_ he thought ruefully.

"Excuse me," he called out, his voice raised, "but I was wondering if you might…"

His voice trailed off as the robed figure turned around. His flesh went immediately icy as he plunged forward into a pair of cold black eyes.

The figure's hand blurred as it shot into his robes. Remus barely had time to blink—in an instant his hands were in the air, and Severus Snape's wand was pointed evenly at the dead center of his chest.

"What," Snape rasped, his voice whispered venom, "are _you_ doing here?"

Remus' voice was lodged in his throat. He could not force himself to speak. All his muddled brain could focus on was that Snape, bane of his schoolboy existence, had his wand pointed very eagerly at his heart. _Snape!_ Snape, who had antagonized the Marauders for the duration of their years at Hogwarts. Snape, who had never been shy in expressing his hatred for anyone with less than the purest blood. Snape, who in the beginning had joined Voldemort's cause and had cavorted with Death Eaters before Remus' eyes. Snape, who had returned to good before Voldemort's fall, vouched for by Albus Dumbledore and suspected by the rest. _What was he doing at Hogwarts?!_

"I asked you a question," Snape snarled, bearing down on Remus like an enormous vampire bat.

He cleared his throat, finding his voice at last. "I'm here at Dumbledore's invitation, Severus," Remus said, careful to keep his tone even.

"Oh indeed?" the other man asked, the barest hint of mockery in his tone. "The Headmaster has many guests, but I rarely find any of _them_ lurking through the hallways like a common thief." Snape's gaze flashed, a kind of savage triumph on his face. "I should call Magical Law Enforcement and have you arrested for trespassing."

"I left Dumbledore's office awhile ago, Severus," Remus continued, ignoring the threat. "I was just looking around, getting familiar with the place again… Dumbledore offered me a position for the upcoming school year. Call him and ask him if you don't believe me."

Snape faltered, then recovered just as quickly. "What position would that be?" he asked in a low, dangerously silky voice. "The castle pet? I fail to see any other position a werewolf could adequately fill."

Remus snapped back, his voice biting, "Defense Against the Dark Arts. I am to understand the position's last occupant is currently in St. Mungo's, dealing with a severely backfired memory modification."

The same ugly something moved across Snape's face. "Don't move," he directed, then sent a light, silvery object flying out of his wand. It zipped down the hallway and disappeared around a corner, out of sight.

For a few moments the hall was silent, save for Snape's loud, angry breath and the sound of Remus' own blood pulsing in his ears. He nearly cried out in relief when Dumbledore, his face politely confused, emerged from around the bend.

"You called for me, Severus?" Dumbledore questioned. The bemusement instantly vanished when he saw Remus with his hands in the air and Snape glaring at him, wand out. A kind of understanding flooded the ancient eyes.

"What seems to be the problem here?" he inquired.

Remus cleared his throat. "Severus seems to believe I am some kind of threat to the empty school," he said, unable to keep the edge off of his voice.

Snape snapped, "Be quiet." To the Headmaster, he said, "Sir, I found the intruder lurking around the hallways and—"

"Lower your wand, Severus," Dumbledore instructed. "Professor Lupin is not an intruder here—he is my guest."

"It's true, then?" Snape demanded quietly, not moving his wand an inch. "You have offered this… this… _wizard_ a teaching position?"

"_Wand_, Severus," Dumbledore ordered, his tone clipped with impatience. Reluctantly Snape lowered his wand. "Yes, I have indeed offered Remus the Defense Against the Dark Arts position. He was our most qualified applicant and is as welcome at this school as you are."

"Forgive my misunderstanding, Dumbledore," Snape said, his voice unreadable but his eyes smoldering with contempt, "but I was under the impression that the Ministry of Magic classified werewolves as—"

Dumbledore held up a hand, cutting the other man off. "As I informed you nearly twenty years ago, I find there to be no harm in Remus' presence in this school," he reminded Snape. "But since you are so concerned, I trust that you will be willing to use your position as Hogwarts' Potions master to brew the wolfsbane potion for Professor Lupin every month, to guarantee that he will bring no harm to our students?" Remus started unconsciously, his eyes moving instantly at Dumbledore, who did not acknowledge him. Snape was the _Potions master_ of Hogwarts?!

Snape's lips were pursed so tightly that Remus felt certain they would begin bleeding at any moment. "Certainly, sir," he said in a voice that told Remus he should be very, very careful of any potion that was placed before him. _No one said this job's occupational hazards included being poisoned!_ Remus thought wildly.

"Very good." Dumbledore glanced now at Remus. "I assume this goes without saying, but I shall make the point regardless. I certainly hope that neither of you will be letting the past interfere with the fact that you are now colleagues?"

_Easier said than done!_ his brain shouted. Nevertheless, Remus spoke first. "Of course not, Professor," he said, voice low. They both turned to Snape, who remained silent but finally jerked his head in accordance.

Dumbledore nodded. "Very well," he accepted. He looked evenly into Snape's eyes. "And of course, I trust that the agreement of the past will still hold? That only the staff and myself shall be aware of Professor Lupin's condition?"

Snape grunted. With the barest of nods to Dumbledore, he turned on his heel and retreated to the end of the corridor, where he disappeared into a classroom.

The Headmaster sighed, almost inaudibly. He turned back to Remus and offered a wry smile. "Welcome back to Hogwarts, Remus," he said, a bare note of weariness in his voice. "I trust the rest of your tenure here will be somewhat less… eventful."

"At least I'll be kept on my toes," Remus answered. Then, hesitantly, "Ah, Professor… I hope you won't mind… escorting me out? I seem to be hopelessly lost."

Dumbledore laughed. "This way."

Remus was quiet as he followed Dumbledore to the entrance hall (which, he noted to his embarrassment, was simply around the corner of opposite end of the hallway where he'd met Snape), but inwardly, his mind would not quiet. He could not get over it: Snape back at Hogwarts. How long had he been there? Back in the days of Dumbledore's order, the last time Remus had seen him, Snape was head of the Research department of the Controlled Potions and Substances sector of the Ministry of Magic—a very distinguished position for a man only a few years out of school. But then, Snape had always been brilliant—even Remus, who disliked him, could not deny it. _So what was he doing at Hogwarts?_ he asked himself.

A sudden thought crowded into his already full mind. _Harry!_ Remus missed a step and staggered, ignoring the concerned glance his former Headmaster gave him. If Snape had been so outwardly hostile to Remus, whom he had never liked, he could only dread how he acted towards Harry Potter, the son of Snape's greatest and most hated adversary.

He was tempted say something to Dumbledore in this vein as they approached the mammoth front doors, but the look on Dumbledore's face as he turned to his former pupil quelled Remus' tongue. "You needn't worry about Severus," Dumbledore assured Remus. "He won't present any trouble for you—he is a professional, as I know you will be."

"Thank you, sir," Remus said slowly, "but that wasn't what worried me. What I was more worried about—"

"I have complete confidence in Severus Snape," Dumbledore mildly interjected, "both in his personal and _professorial_ traits." His eyes held a note of reproach as he said, not unkindly, "He would not be here if I felt otherwise."

Appropriately chastened, Remus nodded meekly.

"I will see you in a month, Professor Lupin." Dumbledore clapped a hand on Remus' shoulder in farewell. "Take care of yourself until then."

"You too, sir," Remus replied, and shook the older man's hand as he left the school.

The doors thudded closed behind him as Remus slowly made his way down the path to Hogsmeade. He still could not believe it. If there were anything more surprising than Remus' own appointment at the school, it was Snape's.

But what did it matter? He had a job again.

_Ah well,_ Remus thought, his good mood overcoming him once more. _At least this year won't be boring._ He paused, looking around at the lush summer grounds. A glorious, claret colored sunset blazed overhead as Remus took his last look at Hogwarts. "See you in a month," he said with a grin.

The castle stood silhouetted against the red sky, stoic and impassive, but Remus felt certain the halls echoed his farewell. He could not wait for September.


	3. The Prisoner of Azkaban

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter and his world are the creations of J.K. Rowling. I just like to play with the characters.

**Author's Note:** And now, the moment you've all been waiting for... what really happened to Ani Hellsing. Don't expect all the chapters to be published as promptly as this one, or to be as long—I pre-wrote part of it :-) But for now, enjoy!

---

_August 1st, 1993._

_Tap tap tap._

Remus groaned and tried to bury his head in the corner of the couch. _No more firewhiskey celebrations for me,_ his fogged brain thought. Merciless sunlight was pouring through the one pitiful window the flat possessed, amplifying the already brutal headache that was now making its presence known. And something had woken him up...

_Tap tap tap._ What the hell was that noise? Remus turned over and struggled to crack one eye open. Through the blistering sunlight he could see a small, dark silhouette at his window. What could—oh, bloody _hell..._ An owl was here. It was probably the reference from the _Daily Prophet_ he'd requested as soon as he'd returned home: before he'd gotten swept away celebrating, he'd decided to update his resume, and hoped that the _Prophet_ had forgotten just why he'd been fired in the first place.

"The one time they decide to be prompt," Remus grumbled, fighting against the quilt he'd dragged over himself sometime in the night. He pushed to his feet, somewhat unsteadily, and fumbled for his wand. He absently charmed the coffee pot to begin brewing and walked into the bedroom, digging into the moneybag under his bed for a few Knuts to give the delivery bird.

He trudged back into the main room, where the impatient owl was now using his whole head to bang on the glass. "Give yourself a concussion, you little bugger, now cut it out," Remus informed it as he opened the window. The owl hopped in, looking indignant, and extended one scaly leg to Remus. He, Remus, frowned as he removed the letter and dropped a bronze coin into the owl's money pouch. Either the _Daily Prophet_ had become less long-winded or this letter was from a different sender—the parchment was hardly more than a scrap.

Wildly curious now, Remus carefully unfolded the parchment and was stunned to see the same, elegant handwriting that he'd seen just the day before.

"_**Please return to Hogwarts immediately upon receiving this owl. I need to speak with you immediately. This is a matter of great importance. **_

—_**Albus Dumbledore **_

_**PS: Take caution in your method of transportation. Take the Floo Network directly into my office. Do not come through Hogsmeade."**_

Remus sat down heavily. It had taken less time than he'd feared: somehow, someone had let word slip that Dumbledore had brought a werewolf onto his staff. The Howlers of protesting parents were probably already flooding the castle, shrieking their protests through its halls.

"Well," he said bitterly, crumpling the parchment in his hand. "Hired and fired, all within a day of each other. That must be some kind of record."

The acrid disappointment that was flooding into his stomach had overcome the dregs of his hangover. "Best go and face the music now," Remus muttered, heading for his tiny shower, slamming the door behind him. "There's no need for Dumbledore to humor the mob any longer than he has to." He stripped off the robes he'd slept in, kicking them into a corner unceremoniously, and turned on the water.

As he waited for it to get hot enough—Remus had always preferred the shower hotter than anyone else he'd known—a foul black mood overcame him. "Nice while it lasted, I suppose," he said aloud to himself, stepping through the steam into the hot needle spray. "It's not like I _really_ wanted to be a professor anyway."

But even as the words left his mouth, he found himself hurtling forward into a memory.

"_Open it now, I can't even stand it!" Lily squealed, sliding the carefully wrapped present across the table._

"_You know you didn't have to get me a birthday present," Remus said, grinning at her as he reached for it._

_James, a party hat sitting at a skewed angle on his dark hair, chuckled and put his arm around his vastly pregnant wife. "It's no use, mate," he informed his friend. "No one gets away from getting a birthday present." He gave Lily a squeeze and a tender look._

_She gushed, "I ordered it especially for you, Remus. Oh, I hope you like it!"_

_Remus shook his head with a grin and tore off the paper. He felt his heart swell as he pulled out a handsome, buttery leather briefcase. His name was stamped across it stately letters: Professor R.J. Lupin. "This is far too much, you two," Remus said, turning it over, admiring its fine finish._

"_Not at all," James replied firmly._

"_You're going to be a smashing teacher," Lily boasted. "You need proper equipment! Something to make them respect you!"_

"_Thanks so much, Lil, James," he repeated, standing to hug each of them in turn. "It's perfect."_

_Peter bustled through the door to Lily and James' kitchen. "We've just finished!" he exclaimed, and with a wave of his wand he turned down the lights, dimming the room to a smooth amber. "Ready!" he called back into the kitchen._

_The doors to the kitchen swung open, and two figures emerged, a huge cake held between them. Remus watched happily as the candlelight danced merrily over all their faces: James, Lily, Peter, and..._

He slammed his fist against the wall and swore aloud. Who was he kidding? He'd wanted to be a professor since before Hogwarts. Now it was all ruined, thanks to a nightmare that had happened over two decades ago. _It just wasn't fair._

Resigned, he tilted his face up to the spray as he finished his shower. The heat and water had eased some of the tension but none of the rage. "I just don't understand," he mused, wrapping a towel around his waist, "how they found out so quickly."

He was halfway into a clean shirt and a worn pair of jeans—why break out his good robes to be fired?—when a realization hit him with the force of a blow.

"It was _Snape!"_ he shouted. "Who else? That bastard contacted the parents and told them I was a werewolf!"

Furious now, he jerked his socks and decrepit shoes onto his feet and grabbed his wand. He stormed for his fireplace and with a snarled spell conjured up a leaping fire. "After Dumbledore fires me," he swore, "I will march into the castle, find that greasy little bag of filth, and punch him right in his ugly, greasy nose."

He threw a dash of Floo powder into the fire and hurtled towards Hogwarts.

---

The gods always seemed to smile benignly over the town of Caprice, fifty miles from the border of southern New York. A small town of no more than five hundred year-round occupants, Caprice lay nestled contentedly between a ridge of pine-wreathed mountains and the stony shore of a deep, still lake. The very last house in Caprice, the farthest from all the others, the old McHerrin lodge, sat cooling its feet in this lake.

On this particular day in Caprice, the weather was especially fine. A few high, wispy clouds floated through a cerulean sky and an occasional birdsong trilled through the otherwise silent air. The air tasted clean and cold—as soon as the sun set, the rain would begin to fall. The surface of the lake was notably still, its waters disturbed by neither mallard nor heron. The setting was perfectly pristine.

But suddenly, from the very center of the lake, there came a great surge of water and air, and in the midst of all this tranquility there emerged a sleek, wet brown head gasping for breath.

Anne Hellsing wrenched in a gasp, filling her lungs so deeply that they ached. The heaves echoed over the water. When her body had ceased its cries for oxygen, she gave a fluttering kick to turn over and float on her back, staring up into the achingly blue sky. The game of laying as still as she could under the water until the need for air overcame her had turned from a game into a battle of wills, mind versus body. Each additional second that she could trick her body to stay beneath the water was worth the screaming of lungs and limbs. Perhaps someday she would need no air at all. The thought made her smile.

Once she felt fully strong and recovered again—which took much less time than it had when she began this game so many years ago—Anne turned once more and began the swim back to shore with long, steady strokes. She slipped through the silken water like a seal, her muscles lean and streamlined from a decade of vigorous aquatic exercise. As she reached the shallows, Anne stood and shook the excess water from her body.

She glanced at the sky: four o'clock, or thereabouts. She stretched languidly and reached for the slightly shabby towel she'd stretched over the stony shore. Sarah Michaels would soon be bringing her son Sammy up to the Lodge for Anne to examine. Hopefully she'd be able to help soothe the coughing spasms that had plagued the boy for the past two weeks. Anne had no medical license, no official practice, no office hours, but if a bone needed setting, a cough needed tending or a wound needed dressing, the people of Caprice called on Anne. More serious matters—ones that could not be handled by Anne Hellsing's herbs and remedies—were taken to the doctor in For Billingsley, about forty miles away. By and large, however, Caprice preferred Anne. She took no payment but was well rewarded by the generosity of the farmers and merchants who lived in town.

Wrapping the towel snugly around her shoulders, Anne hurried up the gentle slope to the Lodge, a handsome, medium-sized grey-stone cabin shaded by oak and elm. She wrung out the remaining water in her long, glossy curls and pushed open the door, stepping into the house.

The inside of the Lodge, open to air and sunlight, pulled her in like beckoning arms. The only things more welcoming, Anne thought with a slow smile, were the actual strong arms that pulled her against an equally strong chest as she shut the door behind her.

"Thought you'd drowned, little otter," Lucas said, smiling indulgently and nuzzling her ear. He rubbed her towel-covered arms briskly. "You're half frozen, Annie! Go put some clothes on."

"Only if you promise never to call me Annie again," Anne said as good-naturedly as possible, unable to keep a slight frown from her face. "You know I can't stand it."

He felt the edge in her voice and held up his hands in surrender. "Yes, ma'am," he teased, and she reached up to muss his deep blond hair. "Sarah Michaels called while you were out," he reminded her, following her as she headed upstairs to clean up. "Said she thinks Sam's getting worse... anyway, they'll be here in about half an hour."

"Let me know as soon as they get here," Anne requested. She moved into her bedroom and shed her towel and simple black bathing suit, moving eagerly for a warm shower. Lucas watched her appreciatively as she moved into the bathroom and half-shut the door. "It's been too quiet since school let out," she complained, loud enough for him to hear her. "None of the kids are sharing their germs. I'll be grateful for something to do."

She heard him chuckle. "Only you could be grateful for someone else's illness," he joked back to her.

"One man's trash," she retorted, and shrieked with laughter as he reached through the door to tickle her. She jumped into the shower and turned on the hot water, laughing and not protesting as he dashed in and crowded into the shower with her.

---

He'd barely unfolded himself from the fireplace before he started speaking.

"Professor, I know what this is about. But before you say a word, you've _got_ to let me defend my—"

"Remus!" From behind his desk Dumbledore looked sharply at Remus, who faltered and stopped in his place. The Headmaster gestured to the armchair and the short, elderly figure in it that Remus had failed to see in his rush. "Cornelius, this is Remus Lupin, my Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Professor Lupin, I trust you know Cornelius Fudge?"

Remus' jaw dropped. _They brought in the Minister of Magic to fire him?!_ "Of course," he said weakly, extending a hand to the portly man who had risen to his feet. "It's an honor to meet you, Minister."

Fudge grasped his hand and nodded briefly. "I'm afraid I must be going, Dumbledore, there's quite a lot that needs to be done," he said, picking up a lime green bowler hat from off the floor while Remus watched in confusion. The Minister shook his head and said, "I'll probably be buried in parchment by the time I get back to the office."

"You will let us know if you hear anything, Cornelius?" Dumbledore asked, circling his desk and clasping the much-shorter man on the shoulder.

"Yes, yes, right away," Fudge replied, moving for the door. "And as soon as I get the appropriate documents signed, I'll send over those guards."

Remus, in his absolute confusion, almost missed the dark look that moved over Dumbledore's face. "I trust you will do what you feel needs to be done, Cornelius," he replied. He watched silently as Fudge put on his traveling cloak and left the office by means of the door, then turned to face Remus.

His mind spinning, Remus slowly sank into an armchair. "So I take it this means you're not going to fire me?" he asked.

Dumbledore made an uncharacteristically impatient gesture. "Of course not," he said, going back to his desk. He sat in the chair and flicked his wand once, conjuring up a tea set. "What on earth gave you that idea?"

"Well, I—I just thought..." he mumbled, taking a proffered teacup. "And then when I saw the Minister, I just—"

Dumbledore smiled slightly. "You needn't worry about your position, Professor Lupin," he said mildly. The old man gave a great heavy sigh. "But there are other important matters which you and I need to discuss. I take it you have not seen today's _Daily Prophet?"_

Remus snorted. "I've been less than a faithful reader since they fired me all those years ago," he admitted wryly. He studied Dumbledore's face: the lines were more pronounced than they had been the day before, and the shadows behind his eyes were deep. "Why?" he asked, the severity of Dumbledore's expression striking him. "What's happened?"

Without a word Dumbledore pulled the newspaper off his desk and handed it to Remus. The feeling of being sucked into quicksand overcame Remus as his eyes fell in horror on the front page.

_**TOP SECURITY PRISONER ESCAPES AZKBAN PRISON: SIRIUS BLACK ON THE LOOSE!**_

A face Remus felt certain he would never see again blinked coldly up at him. The face before him, framed with long matted hair, was impassive, emaciated and bleak—but those eyes still glowed with the madness that had overtaken Sirius Black twelve years before. Remus felt weak: had he not been sitting, the need to do so would have overwhelmed him. Hands shaking he scanned the rest of the article silently. The prisoner was presumed missing since dark yesterday evening, the absence unnoticed until the midnight guard had changed. Fudge had apparently gone out there as soon as the word had reached him and had issued the statement that Black was to be considered armed and highly dangerous. Even the Muggle Prime Minister had been notified.

_How did he do it?_ Remus thought desperately._He escaped from a maximum-security cell, on an island in the middle of the ocean, and no one knows where he's gone. How did he do it?_

He dropped the paper and buried his head in his hands. Twelve years. _Twelve years_ since he'd been forced to look upon the face of the traitor that had handed the Potters in to Lord Voldemort, the traitor that had murdered the grief-mad Peter Pettigrew and a dozen bystanders. Twelve years since Black had been locked in Azkaban Prison—no trial necessary, thanks to the iron hand of Bartemius Crouch—to rot until death. And now he was free—free to kill again.

Unbidden, Lily, James and Peter's faces swam before Remus' closed eyes. _How many more would die at Sirius Black's hands?_

"Remus." Dumbledore's voice broke the silence. He looked up, trying to bring the Headmaster's face into focus. "You must listen."

Remus nodded and cleared his throat. Dumbledore leaned forward across the desk. "I wanted to talk with you first, because of your history with Sirius Black," he said quietly, "and your history with James and Lily. Remus, the Minister thinks that Black will come to Hogwarts to try to kill Harry."

It was as if the breath had been knocked out of him. Remus gasped. "Why?" he demanded. "What does he know?"

Dumbledore sighed once more. "The guards informed Cornelius that in the past few weeks or so, Black has been talking in his sleep," he explained. "Hardly an unusual occurrence—it is usually the first sign of the descent into madness that many of Azakban's prisoners undergo. But Black was muttering, over and over, _He's at Hogwarts._" He shrugged. "It is thought that Black will want to kill the child who brought about his master's demise."

"And that's why Fudge is sending out guards?" Remus asked dully.

"Yes," Dumbledore answered, his face stony. "The dementors of Azkaban will be patrolling the Hogwarts' grounds until Black is recovered. As soon as you and I have finished, I will go and inform the rest of the staff." He paused, obviously choosing words carefully. "It is to my great distaste that this is to happen—I have never been fond of the dementors, and I dislike putting so many innocent children within their grasp... even if it is to protect one of them."

"I see." Remus went quiet. "Thank you for letting me know," he said, pushing to his feet. "I'll leave so you can—"

Dumbledore reached out and took his arms. "There is more," he said quietly, "that I'd like to discuss with you."

Confused, Remus sat. "What else is there?" he asked slowly.

Quietly, Dumbledore settled back in his chair, surveying Remus with steady blue eyes. "I have been in contact with all the previous members of the Order," he informed Remus. "I wanted them to know that the spy is among us once again. But more than that, I wanted to let them know because I am greatly concerned that Black, should he encounter any of them, will see them as his greatest enemies... We all were, after all, the ones who were most strongly united against Voldemort. He knows that if his master is to rise again, he must vanquish all—including Harry—who would impede him." He leveled his eyes with Remus' once more. "But there is one of the Order about whom I am particularly concerned... and that is Ani Hellsing."

_Ani?_

His heart dropped into his stomach. He flew to his feet and approached the desk, putting his hands on its surface and leaning forward, looking intently into Dumbledore's eyes. His heart was hammering against his ribcage, and his limbs had gone numb. "You've heard from Ani?" he asked slowly.

"No." Dumbledore spread his hands. "Not in over twelve years... since she disappeared." He glanced up at Remus. "But if you'll recall—in the beginning of the days of the Order, I made certain that I would be able to know where its members were at all time... that faculty has not left me with time."

"So you've known this whole time?" Remus whispered, aghast. "All these years, you've known where she was? Her parents were frantic, Dumbledore! They'd already lost their son years before and then, suddenly, their daughter was gone too _and you said nothing? _You said nothing to _me? _ She was the only friend I had left in the world, Dumbledore!"

"Ani is an adult, and I was being respectful of her privacy," Dumbledore retorted firmly. "She wanted to leave, to not be found, I respected that. It was not my business where she was, or why she left."

"_You should have made it your business!" _Remus roared. "_Her heart was broken and you let her suffer alone!"_

Dumbledore mildly looked at Remus. "Perhaps that's so," he said, spreading his hands in acceptance. "But if you feel that's the case, I advise you to sit and allow me to finish what I am about to ask you."

Chest clenched, Remus took a deep, shaky breath and sat. "Where is she?" he demanded.

The headmaster sipped his tea. "She is in America," Dumbledore answered. "She has been there ever since she left." He cleared his throat, setting the teacup back on its saucer. "From what I can tell, she has renounced magic entirely and has been living as a Muggle these past twelve years."

A sick wave swept over Remus as he felt the color drain from his face. "Renounced magic?" he echoed quietly. The thought made him ill. To renounce magic was to renounce the deepest part of one's self, to deny a sense as essential as sight or touch.

"Yes. And that," Dumbledore continued, "is why I am so concerned for her." He sighed. "The other members of the Order—yourself included—have wands to protect them. Ani does not."

"So what do you want to do?" Remus asked quietly. "I thought she was an _adult_, capable of making her own decisions."

"Be that as it may," Dumbledore said coolly, ignoring Remus' bitterness, "the circumstances have changed. We have seen what Sirius Black is capable of. I would hate to see harm befall Ms. Hellsing simply because she was undefended. And I thought—as her friend—you might want to know of her whereabouts, should anything arise."

Remus slumped. "I'm sorry," he said gruffly. "I'm just a bit... just a bit overwhelmed, is all." He stood up and paced to the window. Dumbledore watched in silence.

This could not be happening: Sirius Black had escaped from Azkaban prison and Dumbledore had told him how to find Ani Hellsing. _Ani._ God, he'd never in a thousand years thought he'd see her again. And now... He shook his head and turned back to Dumbledore. "Do you really think she might be in danger? All the way in America?" he asked quietly.

"I fear she may be."

Remus' hands started to shake. "Tell me how to find her?" he asked finally.

Dumbledore nodded. "Of course."

---

"Here's to a good prognosis for little Sam Michaels," Anne smiled, clinking her wine glass against Lucas'.

"Here's to a brilliant diagnosis by the lovely Anne Hellsing," he countered, and they laughed and took a long, slow sip of wine.

They fell silent, each contentedly full from the steak Lucas had prepared earlier and pleasantly warm and drowsy from the wine. They watched as storm clouds rushed over the horizon, obscuring the million of stars overhead. "Looks like a big one," Lucas beamed and Anne smiled at his enthusiasm. Lucas loved little more than a good storm.

The thunder in the distance was now getting clearer and the wind had picked up. Anne was about to suggest that they move back indoors to prepare for the storm, but before she could speak Lucas had put down his wine glass and was leveling his eyes with hers. "I was serious earlier, Annie..."

"Lucas," she warned.

"Alright, alright, _Anne_," he amended. "You did well. I'm willing to bet anyone else would have put Sam's cough off to simple allergies. I mean, whoever heard of whooping cough in the summertime? How'd you do it?"

She shrugged. "It wasn't that difficult. Allergic coughs sound different," she explained simply. "The way he was rasping... I could just tell. The herbs I gave him should help, but I'm glad she's taking him to Fort Billingsley to see a real doctor."

"You _could_ be a real doctor, Anne," Lucas replied, and Anne had to work hard to repress a sigh. _Not this again,_ she thought. "I just wish you'd give it a little more thought," he went on, draining his wine glass. "Healing is something you're good at, Anne, I just think you could make a living off of it."

"But I don't want that, Lucas," she reminded him, less forcibly than she might have liked. "Think of all it would involve. Years and years of medical school—" _And the fact that they'd want to know about my previous schooling..._

"For a good purpose," he interjected.

"—not to mention all the money it would cost—" And_ I don't have much of the kind they'd want..._

"I could help you, Anne, and there are all kinds of loans you could get."

"—and I'd have to leave Caprice, and that's just not something I'm willing to do right now," she finished, irritated with his interruptions.

Lucas groaned and rolled his head back. "Don't get me wrong, babe," he said, and Anne stifled a wave of irritation. "What you do here is fantastic, it really is... but you could do so much more. And these excuses you keep coming up with won't last forever."

Wanting to end the conversation, Anne attempted lightly, "Money is something that will always be a reasonable excuse, Lucas."

He shook his head. "Not really. I mean, you could always sell the lodge—" She stiffened as he went on "—and I could sell my house in town... We could get an apartment in the city, so you could go to school... And I'd still be there."

Carefully she put down her wine glass. She would not be so easily coerced. "I was lucky to find this place in the first place," she reminded him. "It's been my home for ten years, and I don't plan on giving it up any time soon. And you can't tell me you're honestly that eager to leave all of this." She spread a hand towards the darkening sky and the lake below it.

"I'm not," he agreed, stretching, and Anne knew with relief that the discussion was concluding. "I just want you to be able to make a profession doing what you really love... there are very few people who get that chance, Anne, and I think it's a waste not to take it."

"I'm content where I am," Anne replied and squeezed his hand, "and whom I'm with."

He smiled. "Well, at least you know how to shut me up," Lucas joked.

She smiled back, her anger fading. "Years of practice."

Lucas laughed, and the rich rumble mixed with the approaching thunder. "Let's go inside, little otter," he said, pushing to his feet in a fluid motion. He extended a hand and she saw his eyes twinkle in the dark. "We'll see if you can't find a better way to keep me quiet."

With a tiny weight settled on her heart, Anne returned his smile and put her hand in his. She'd avoided another incident and, as usual, it had exhausted her. She hoped the next confrontation was far, far away: better to not have to answer the seemingly simple questions as to why Anne Hellsing never wanted to leave Caprice, never wanted to venture out of Eden, never wanted to stop hiding.

---

The _crack!_ made by his appearance was masked by the almighty roar of thunder above. Instantly he was soaked through to the skin with drenching sheets of rain. Oblivious to the tempest that squalled around him, Remus focused instead all his energy on the house that sat before him. The windows were dark and not a sound came from within, but he knew with al his being that he was in the right place. He could feel her inside.

With a buzzing mind and unsteady hands, he made up his mind and marched up the porch steps and knocked purposefully on the door.

---

"D'you hear that?"

Anne woke instantly. Lucas was no longer pressed against the gentle curve of her back. He'd always teased her about her strange habit to only be able to sleep with her back to him—Anne had never had the heart to tell him that it was too restrictive, laying in his arms. But now she felt his absence from her skin and longed for it back.

She sat up and looked at him struggling into his clothes in the dark. She glanced at the bedside clock: three AM. "Hear what?" she asked in a half whisper.

"Knocking," Lucas replied, and tossed her the overlarge T-shirt that she'd shed hours before. "Someone's at the door."

"Yeah," she said after a moment's pause. "I do hear it." Instantly she was on her feet and at his side. "I hope no one's been hurt in this storm," she said, following Lucas as he treaded heavily towards the door, gripping the railing so as not to stumble sleepily down the stairs.

The knocking increased in volume, as if the visitor had given up on politeness and had settled on desperation, pounding with his whole fist to be heard over the storm. "Probably a stranded motorist," Lucas commented, fumbling at the key-rack on the wall for the door key. "Well, we'll know in a minute, won't we?"

Anne's heart thudded behind her ribs as she watched Lucas reach for the door handle. He swung the door open to reveal a tall, gaunt figure before them, plastered with rain. For some inexplicable reason, Anne's heart gave another painful jump. "Can we help you?" Lucas asked politely, and flipped on the hall light.

She opened her mouth to cry out but no sound emerged. Oh, it had been long—twelve terrible years!—but she would know that face anywhere. Time had been crueler to the man in the rain than it had been to her: there were lines etched across his face that had no business on the visage of a man of thirty-three. Remus Lupin slowly shifted his eyes from Lucas' face to Anne's gaze, and every tear Anne had cried in the past twelve years seemed to resurrect themselves in her eyes.

"Remus?" she choked, and Lucas shot her a look of undisguised shock.

"Ani," he said, his voice trembling. He took a step towards her. The light spilled onto his face, chasing some of the shadows away.

That _name!_ The sound of it jolted her back to her senses. She took a step back and the tears burned away. "No," she said, and the front in her voice chilled even her. "It's Anne, actually."

A sad smile with so many piercing memories moved over Lupin's lips. "Either way," he said gently, as though he were expecting this reaction, "it's short for Andromeda, isn't it?"

"Ex_cuse_ me?" Lucas demanded, but Lupin ignored him.

"Andromeda Hellsing, also called Ani," Lupin said, his voice thick with a layer of intensity. His lips twitched. "Or is the last name different too?" He flicked his eyes to Lucas, regarded him coolly for a moment, then looking back at Ani with that same, unwavering, penetrating stare.

Whatever emotion had swamped her at first sight of Lupin had shriveled like a salted slug. Thick rage pushed up within her instead. "It's still Hellsing," she responded. "The only thing you've got wrong is the Anne part."

He shrugged, lifting one shoulder carelessly, and looked around the hall where the three of them stood. A wry look moved over his face and he said lightly, "Anne, then... It doesn't matter. What you call yourself cannot take away from what you are, Ani."

"_Stop saying that name!"_ Ani—_no! Anne!_—screamed, and the raw nerves and tears in her voice jolted Lucas out of his stunned silence.

"Hey, get out of here before I call the police," he ordered aggressively and gripped Lupin's upper arm in a vice-like hand. "I don't know who you are but you've got no business barging in here in the middle of the night. Now why don't you just—"

He never saw it coming. Neither did Anne, for that matter. But Lupin, his eyes narrowed in a cool, contemptuous glare that he'd learned from another, pulled a long wand out from the folds of his traveling cloak. He said, almost lazily, "_Petrificus Totalus!"_

Lucas went stiff as a board and topped over onto the floor.


	4. Breaking the News

**Disclaimer: **::points at the author's name:: See? It doesn't say J.K. Rowling. Therefore the majority of these characters are not mine: they belong to Ms. Rowling and the fantastic world she has crafted for us.

**Author's Note: **Reunions are so sweet, aren't they? ::wicked laugh:: I do love some angst, and you can be prepared for a lot of it in this chapter. Read and review! Please! Boost my ego!

---

_Maybe that wasn't the best idea,_ Remus thought wryly.

"God _damn_ it, Lupin!" Ani shouted.

That stung. Since when was he such a stranger that she called him Lupin? The irritation that had caused him to petrify that tall, blond, imbecilic Muggle swelled once more. _He had it coming,_ he longed to say. _Who does he think he is, looking at you like he owns you? What were you thinking, Ani? _

He knew better, however, and watched as she knelt by the man's side and touched his face worriedly. Remus felt a slight twinge of guilt that was instantly banished as she shot a scathing look into his face. "Was that really necessary?" she snapped. Her voice brought back ten thousand memories—he ignored them.

"If he was going to throw me back out in that storm, then yes, it was entirely necessary," Remus answered coolly. He took off his rain sodden cloak and sent it flying across the room to hang itself on a coat rack. "And it's nice to see you too, Ani." She clenched her teeth at the name and glared at him; he met her eyes steadily and for the first time in twelve years took in her face.

An unwelcome, tender sadness flooded him. She looked… God, she looked as fresh as a memory. She might have been plucked from time and preserved, she still looked so young. Her face had lost none of its glory and even her eyes, though traced with fine lines, were still bright and fierce. Seeing her, looking exactly as she had at twenty-one, Remus was more aware than ever of his own aging.

She pulled herself up to her full height—the top of her head was still only slightly higher than his shoulder. He could have lifted her over his head—that is, if she didn't look like she would throw off sparks like a cat if he touched her.

"Undo it," Ani demanded through clenched teeth. "I won't let him throw you out."

"Not yet," Remus replied, tucking his wand into the pocket of his jeans. "We need to talk." He glanced down at the Muggle—whose eyes were rolling furiously—and said, forcing his voice to stay casual, "He doesn't know you're a witch, does he? I take it he'll need his memory modified?"

"I don't care about his memory, I want you to unjinx him!" Ani retorted. "And what's so damn important that you have to show up in the middle of the bloody night, Lupin?"

He shrugged, feeling a bit foolish. "I'm sorry; it's morning in England. I had forgotten the time difference." Urgency started to nip at his heels. "Listen, Ani—"

"Lupin, I think that I have been fairly tolerant, seeing as how you just showed up after twelve years in the middle of the effing night… but I swear to _God_ if you call me Ani one more time—"

_Damn it._ "Fine! Ani, Anne, Grand Duchess Hellsing, whatever the hell you're calling yourself these days," he flared, and for a moment Ani's face was bewildered. "I need to talk to you about something important—something I'd _really _rather not discuss in front of your boyfriend there—and we're rapidly losing time."

A look passed over her face that tempered his anger. "Is—is it about my parents?" she asked, color ebbing from her face.

Sighing, Remus shook his head. _How was he supposed to do this? _"No," he assured her, his anger depleted. "Last I heard they were fine. It's about—" He struggled. "Damn it. Can't we just go sit down?" They both glanced down at the Muggle. "He'll be fine, you know, I haven't hurt him or anything."

Ani sighed back. Finally, she looked as tired as he felt. "At least move him to a couch or something," she insisted. She stood and bent as though to lift him.

"I'll do it." He pulled out his wand once more and—_swish_ _and flick_—raised the stiff body from the ground. Ani staggered back a step, then recovered and motioned silently into a dark, adjacent room. Remus guided the body towards the large couch, ignoring Ani's growl as the feet clipped a corner. None-too-gently he let the body fall onto the couch and turned back to Ani. She stood silhouetted in the doorframe—golden light caught on her sleep-tousled hair. He suddenly became very, very aware that she was wearing nothing more than an overlarge shirt. He forced his stomach to unknot. "Let's go sit you down somewhere."

"Just tell me," Ani demanded, but nevertheless she allowed him to guide her through the house. They entered the kitchen and Ani flipped on a light. She sat at a small oak table with slender, curved legs—Remus recognized it from her old flat.

Unwilling to bring up the bad news so soon, Remus looked around, trying not to appear too impressed. The cabin she was living in was huge—the kitchen was bigger than his current flat. The storm beat against huge windows, still howling beyond the walls. "So is this your place or the Muggle's?" he asked, attempting conversation. He glanced over at her. "What's his name, anyway?"

Ani said stiffly, "It's mine. And his name is _Lucas_. Stop calling him a Muggle."

Nerves and lack of sleep had frayed Remus' social skills. He laughed at the absurdness of the comment. "Why? That's what he is, isn't he?"

Her cheeks reddened. "If you're going to be obnoxious, you can just—"

"Sorry."

They were quiet for a moment. Ani cleared her throat—she seemed to be fighting to keep her temper under control as she slowly spoke.

"What's going on, Lupin? What are you doing here and how did you find me?"

"Dumbledore," he answered. "Dumbledore told me."

She slumped upon hearing their former headmaster's name. "I knew it," she said quietly. There was bitterness in her voice that ached; Remus could feel it in his bones. Then, almost to herself, she added, "Couldn't he just have left me alone?"

Uncertain, Remus stayed silent. Despite his anger at her (for he _was_ angry at her, no sense in denying it… angry that she'd left, and angry that she seemed to have moved from devastation so easily) he couldn't bring himself to make this harder than it undoubtedly already was. So he waited until the weariness had somewhat faded from her face before he spoke.

"I know this isn't what you want to hear," he began, "but Ani—er, Anne, you've got to come back to England."

That caught her attention as very little else might have. She sat bolt upright once more and fixed wide and flashing eyes on his face. He braced himself for a tirade—she had some very good ones, as he recalled—and grew nervous when she spoke very, very softly.

"And why, may I ask, is that?" He opened his mouth, only to be cut off with a chuckle. "You'll excuse me if I find the situation a bit laughable. I just fail to see—if my parents are fine, as you said—what could possibly be so important that I need to return to the place I swore I'd never go back to after twelve years." She settled back in the chair, sardonic amusement written about her face. "So please, Lupin, enlighten me. What's happening across the pond that requires my presence?"

_More than you know. More than you would ever want to know._

"Sirius Black has escaped from Azkaban prison."

---

Soft hands were on her face and, for a moment, Ani Hellsing was drowning in a memory.

_"Oh Ani, Ani, Ani," Sirius murmured in a voice hazy and thick with love. He tucked a curl behind her ear and tightened his arm around her bare waist, laying a lingering kiss against her forehead. His free hand traced over her face, committing the contours to memory. She felt as though she could burst into blossom. "Love, I couldn't dream you more exquisite."_

"Ani…"

_Oh, no. Don't wake me. Just let me stay here… let me be happy…_

"Ani. Oh, damn it. Anne? Look at me. Open your eyes."

Lupin was talking to her. She pushed at the threads of blackness. The same light hands were patting her cheeks and a far-away, familiar scent permeated her haze. The werewolf still smelled the same—like subtle musk, earth, and sun-warmed pine. So odd that she'd remembered that after so many years.

Finally, as though after a long journey, she managed to push her eyelids open. Lupin had twisted her in the chair and was kneeling before her, his gentle hands touching her face. She looked at him for a brief moment and felt as though she'd finally seen him. Anxiety deepened the lines already present on his face. His cheeks were sunken, gaunt, almost malnourished. His hair, though still thick, now had shocks of silver that added decades to his appearance.

_How hard had the past twelve years been for him that he could look like this? _she whispered to herself.

A voice cracked in the air. The realization that it was hers brought her back to the world once more.

"You're lying."

Lupin settled back on his heels, relief and exasperation flooding his face. "I am not," he replied, sounding somewhat irritated. "Believe me, I greatly wish that were the case. But it's not."

Panic pounded through her system. _Escaped._ But that was impossible! No one had ever escaped from Azkaban—no one! Her head swam a bit and she leaned forward, elbows on her knees, cradling it.

Where was justice? Sirius Black was responsible for the death of the one woman she named friend. By rights he should be burning in hell. Without a second thought he had sacrificed Lily and James, he who had been his closest friend.

Black had innocent blood staining his hands. And now he was free. An old malevolence welled up within her again. _Free._ The word echoed throughout her skull, buzzing like a hoard of angry wasps. She could not believe it. What god would allow him to be free, free to destroy countless other lives? She herself had yet to recover and it had been twelve years. _How many others would suffer?_

She fought desperately to maintain her composure and finally settled for asking the only question she could form. "When?"

"About two days ago," Lupin answered. "They haven't seen him since."

The world spun—she must have blanched again because Lupin pitched forward to grip her shoulders. "Easy now," he said softly, gently easing her down to rest her head on her knees. She became vaguely aware of him pulling out his wand once more and then, an instant later, pressing a cold glass into one of her hands. "Take a drink," he instructed, helping her to sit up.

She gulped greedily and the icy water restored her a bit. Weary, she pressed the cold glass against one temple. A rivulet of condensate ran down her face, much in the path that a tear would. _That's quite enough of that, _she told herself firmly, setting her glass on the table. _Now is not a time for weakness._

Banishing her steadily mounting panic, she schooled her voice to a cool, calm tone. "I don't see why this requires me to come back to England," she said tartly. "In fact, I think the safest course of action would be for me to stay here. Let Black run his rampage across the ocean; he doesn't know where I am. For all he knows, I could be dead."

Lupin was looking at her with an expression she could not read, and when he spoke, his voice had lost its bite and impatience. "Ani," he said, so softly that she had to strain to hear him. She did not bother to correct him. "Do you honestly think that Sirius wouldn't know whether or not you were dead? The same way you would know if he were dead?"

It was like being slapped. She stood so abruptly that the chair fell over behind her and walked away from the table, her back to him so he could not see her tears. They had sprung up without warning and now she could not make them stop. She hugged her arms close to her, her elbows digging into her sides. "I would know if he were dead," she whispered, unable to dam the words, "but I'm not so sure it goes the same way."

He was quiet for a moment: so quiet she almost thought he'd gone. Her heart pounded—she hadn't wanted him there, not for a minute… The memory of their last meeting stood stark and painful in her mind. He'd left her once before, and she would never be so foolish as to let anyone destroy her that way again. But if he'd left her again… _I couldn't bear it._

She was about to turn, to see if he was really stilly there: perhaps this had all been a dream. But then she felt his hands touch her shoulders gingerly. She shuddered at the gentleness of his touch. He was so close she could feel his breath against her hair—her best friend, back as though from the dead. _God, I've missed him,_ she thought suddenly.

"Ani," he said quietly, moving closer. She could feel his loneliness, palpable in the air, and felt it clutch at her own heart. It would be the most natural thing to turn, to step into his arms, to accept the comfort for which she had been desperate for these twelve, lonely years… Dear Remus, her oldest friend… They had both lost so much…

_He left you,_ a traitorous voice whispered, _just when you'd lost everyone else. He is not to be trusted._

She instinctively straightened. The voice was right. This could not happen. She would be strong.

"I can't come back to England, Lupin," she insisted in a voice she hardly recognized as her own. She pulled away and felt him wilt behind her. "It's simply impossible. I have a life here, one with which I am quite content." She was gathering steam, launching into lecture mode, ignoring the clenching of her heart—it used to be Lily who did the lecturing. "I am not afraid of Sirius Black. He won't find me, Lupin, he _can't_. Besides, I've nothing he wants."

"Listen to me," Lupin ordered. He circled her and came to a stop before her, forcing her to look up into his eyes. "You don't know what I know, Ani… It's dangerous for you to be here, alone, without protection. I'm not leaving you here if he does decide to come for you. Black is _mad,_ if you'll recall… he'll find you, and then he'll destroy you. And on good conscience I cannot allow that."

A surge of indignation volcanoed inside of her. "I was forced to learn how to watch out for myself twelve years ago, Lupin: I do not need you to protect me!"

She had gone too far. Lupin did not meet her gaze for a long time, and when he did, his eyes were curiously shuttered. "I cannot," he began coolly, "make you fear for yourself; and if you do not want me to protect you, I cannot force you to accept. However, there is information to which you have not yet been exposed that I think will significantly change your mind."

A derisive laugh escaped her throat, fueled by her anger. The weakness had burned away. "You're wasting your breath, Lupin."

The werewolf's mouth grew taut as a harp string. "_Fine,_" he spat. "If you're going to cower here and further abandon your _godson_, there's obviously nothing I can do." He spun on his heel and stalked back towards the front door.

A wrath such as she'd never known churned up inside her. How _dare_ he bring up Harry?

Electricity spat and fizzled around her, as though she were the crux of the storm that raged without. Before she could stop it, the merest splinter of fury broke free and with a deafening thud, Lupin flew back through the kitchen and slammed into the paneled glass.

---

_Bloody hell!_

As the stars cleared from before his eyes, Remus drew in a long, shuddering breath. He cautiously drew himself up off the floor where he'd landed rather unceremoniously and moved his eyes onto Ani's face.

Rage swam around her like a crimson mist. Her hair coiled and swirled around her, spiraling with her fury. Her eyes—which had before been cold and screened against him—burned from behind her lashes, as though she'd like nothing better than to incinerate him. Scared though he was (he'd felt the power that had sent him hurtling across the room and had no doubts that, had such energy been focused, she might have killed him) Remus marveled at the change in her: power was surging off of her as visibly as if she'd been giving off light. She was _glowing._

And she was furious. She stalked forward and put her palm flat on his chest. He could feel hot, unbridled hatred vibrating through her palm.

"Don't ever," she hissed through clenched teeth, "mention the boy's name in front of me again, _do you understand me?"_

Shocked wordless, he nodded his head.

"Good." She stepped away from him and turned her back. Remus watched for a moment as she clenched her arms around herself once more, physically forcing her anger down. He knew how enraged she had to have been to let herself explode that way—he also knew how scared she was by it. Even from where he stood he could see that she was trembling.

He knew he'd been cruel—Harry would be safe under Dumbledore's tutelage, and he, Remus, would be at Hogwarts as an added protection for the boy, as would be the dementors of Azkaban—and knew that an apology was necessary. But he could not bring himself to cross the few steps to Ani and speak the words. There was just too much damage.

She spoke first, instead.

"I want you to go," Ani said bleakly. The glow had gone from her; even her voice had gone grey. "Unjinx Lucas and leave. Leave his memory as it is. I'm not going back with you."

"And if Black comes for you?" he asked, his heart trembling but his voice calm.

She quietly laughed and there was no joy in the sound. "Let him come," Ani said, fatigue in the lines of her back. "He might as well finish the job. He took everything else."

"Ani…"

"Remus… please don't." She turned and looked at him squarely, resignation in her face. "Come see to Lucas, and then please leave me alone. I don't want to see you again."

The words were cold with finality. His chest felt empty. He had failed. Drained, all he could do was nod. Ani looked grimly satisfied and motioned for him to follow her back to the den, where the Muggle lay stiff as a board, only his eyes in motion.

Remus crossed the room and looked down into blue eyes full of hate; Ani lingered in the doorway. "I'm going to put you to sleep," he informed the man quietly. "You'll wake up in the morning and you'll remember everything. And then you'll let Ani explain everything to you without interruption. Understand?"

The blue eyes glared for a moment and finally blinked.

"Good." He unsheathed his wand and held it level over the Muggle's body. "_Duermes." _

He watched impassively as the other man's eyelids slowly drifted closed. Ani moved from behind him to a chest in the corner and pulled out a blanket. She walked over and draped it gently over the dreamer, tucking him in. Remus was instantly and irrationally jealous.

She straightened and met his eyes reluctantly. They were glossy with tears. An old pain ripped through him.

"Ani…" he tried.

"It was good to see you again, Remus," she lied perfunctorily. "Take care of yourself."

Defeated, he nodded. He took one last look at her face and resisted the urge to touch her mouth. He turned around and prepared to Apparate. He would not stay where he was not wanted.

"Remus?"

He turned around, unbidden hope rising in his chest. It thudded just as quickly as she closed her eyes against him. "Yes?" he asked tiredly.

"Nothing."

He nodded. There was nothing else he could do. He too closed his eyes.

_Crack!_

---

The house was instantly silent.

Ani opened her eyes. He was really gone. Remus Lupin had left her life for what would be the second and final time.

Behind her, Lucas was sleeping silently, his head full of dreams. She only wished it would last—tomorrow she would have to explain her midnight visitor and who she was before she called herself Anne.

Tears started to singe her eyes and her knees grew weak. Slowly she slid down to the floor, curling her spine and tucking her knees against her chest, fighting off the demons that had steadily begun to crowd into her mind.

_And here you are again… alone._

A cry ripped its way from her chest and for the first time in a long time, Ani could not keep it inside.

---

In England the sun was shining. It seemed like a mockery.

Remus collapsed on his couch and summoned the biggest goblet his flat contained and a bottle of firewhiskey. Desperate for release he filled the glass to its brim and gulped it down equally as quickly.

_It was over._ In the span of a day he'd found and lost Ani Hellsing.

_Idiot._

Remus closed his eyes. The chiding voice sounded remarkably like James'. _Not much I can do,_ he answered it dully. _She's made it plain that I can't convince her._

He could almost see James giving him a reproachful look. _Come off it, Moony,_ the voice scolded. _You're smarter than that._

_I refuse to beg her to come back. If she wants to face the danger, fine. _

_Don't be daft. That's not you, Moony. You want to protect her, protect her. Don't just stand there and do nothing. She just needs convincing._

Remus laughed sharply. _I think I've just proven that's impossible._

_Only from you. What you need to do is find someone she'll listen to._

He sat bolt upright. Of course!

"I can't make her come back," he said aloud, pushing to his feet, dropping the goblet onto the table. "But no one said I had to do it by myself!"

He flew to his fireplace. There was one last place to visit before he lost hope. He only hoped it wasn't the biggest mistake he'd ever made.


	5. You Can't Go Home Again

**Disclaimer: **I wish I could find J.K. Rowling and just go up to her someday and thank her for letting me play with her delightful characters. However, I can't, so I trust that this little disclaimer will serve as all the thanks I cannot give.

**Author's Note:** Hello everyone... sorry this has taken so long to complete. I'd forgotten how consuming school work could be! Well, here it is, the moment you've all been waiting for... and a SPECIAL thanks to Amalynne O'hara and Goldilocks31890 for their creative help! And now, enjoy!

---

_She was still wearing the long golden dress when he finally returned. _

_The roar of his motorcycle echoed through the flat and then shuddered to a stop. She paused to collect herself and moved away from the sink, the glass she was washing still in her hand. She stood in the hall and waited._

_He stumbled through the front door and stared at her for a moment through slightly red eyes. He'd traded his dress robes for the black leather jacket she'd gotten him for Christmas, and it reeked of oil and booze. It took a moment for her relief to give way to anger, but when it did, it was swift and consuming, a volcano in the chest._

"_Sirius Crispin Black, were you out drinking?!"_

_He sighed and said slowly, controlling his temper, "No, Ani, I was just _looking_ at the vodka."_

_The sarcasm was too much and then some. She threw the crystal to the floor. It shattered into countless tiny pieces and Sirius winced, then turned black eyes onto her face. He didn't speak. _

"_Why did you leave?" she asked, his static stare drawing up the tiny hairs on her arms. "You didn't even get to see Remus... he kept asking where you were."_

"_Because," he answered, his voice shaking with suppressed anger, "unlike some people here, I'm of the opinion that there are more pressing things than parading around playing entertainer."_

_She fought against the hurt and squared her shoulders. "Well, forgive me," she retorted crisply. "Had I known you would be so adamantly against it, I wouldn't have agreed to it. My parents just thought it would be a nice way to formally announce the engagement."_

_He looked for a moment as if he were about to say something, but changed his mind at the last moment. He shook his head, the black hair he'd let grow so long swinging into his eyes, and headed for their bedroom._

_But she was too quick for him. She raised her wand and slammed the door shut in his face. He stood with his back to her, silent, his slow, fiercely controlled breaths the only sound. She watched his shoulders rise and fall and felt a twinge of shame—she could hardly blame him for being surly. She'd attacked him as soon as he'd walked in the door. _

"_Sirius..." she tried, keeping her voice calm, trying to stop it from trembling. "Talk to me. The past few weeks, you've been so...there's something wrong, isn't there? Why won't you tell me?"_

"_There's nothing, Ani, just leave it alone."_

"_Love, I can't just leave it alone." She crossed over to him and reached out to take his arm, turning him slowly to face her. He looked down at her, eyes unreadable, face a blank. He didn't reach out for her. She placed her hands on his waist and stepped closer, tilting her head to look up at him. "I'm worried, Sirius, you've not been yourself lately and it's frightening me."_

_He barked a laugh and pushed her hands off of him. The sound was cold. "Perhaps this is the real me, Ani. Ever think of that? Maybe you're just seeing me truly now."_

_She started. This was not the direction she'd anticipated. "I refuse to believe that after knowing you for almost ten years and being in love with you for half of that I'm only now just seeing who you are," she answered._

"_Stranger things have happened, Ani."_

"_Let's not fight," she requested, her hands beginning to shake. "I'm tired, you're tired, let's just go to bed. Okay?"_

"_Can't." He turned and reached for the doorknob to their bedroom. "I'm going to check on the Potters. I just wanted to come and grab a book I was going to let James borrow."_

"_Let me change and I'll go with you," she suggested, raising her wand. "I told Lily I'd tell her how the party was."_

_Sirius whirled around and stared down at her. "Take a hint, Ani, I'm going by myself!" he shouted._

"_Sirius!" she cried, but he stormed into the bedroom and slammed the door behind him._

_Hot, angry tears seared her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. She put her hand on the knob and turned—he'd locked it. "Sirius," she begged through the door, resting her forehead against the cold wood. A tear slipped down her cheek and fell to the floor. She stared at the tiny puddle on the wooden floor. "Please, just talk to me, tell me what's wrong." She was quiet for a moment. "Is it me?"_

_There was a long, painful quiet until the doorknob quietly clicked. She took a quick step back and watched as Sirius opened the door. His eyes were blacker than she'd ever seen them. He stood silhouetted in the doorway for a moment and then spoke quietly._

"_It's me, Ani... it's just..." He sighed, raked a hand through his hair the way James did. "I've been thinking. I just don't know if this is for the best."_

_Her heart plummeted. "You mean the wedding?" _

"_Yes."_

_She was quiet. "I see." A beat passed and she asked, her voice straining, "Don't you think it's a little late for that?" _

_Sirius gave a half-shrug and brushed past her. "It's not too late 'til the wedding's over." He moved towards the front door._

"_You're just going to leave?!" she cried, whirling around. "You tell me that you don't think this is 'for the best' and then you walk out?"_

"_To be honest, I really didn't want to discuss it tonight, Ani."_

"_Well that's a bit of a problem, isn't it, because I certainly would like to discuss it!"_

_Sirius growled low in his throat, then opened the door and stormed out. Flames of rage licked up through Ani's throat but were quickly extinguished by a sudden, sharp jolt of fear._

She could not let Sirius leave.

_She flew out the door after him and clattered down the winding stairs. He was straddling his huge black motorbike when she flew into the street, the wind tugging at her dress and curls. He revved the engine and tossed back his long hair, black eyes staring out at her from a golden stream of lamplight. She walked slowly over to the bike and reached up to cup his face, his dear, handsome, haughty, angry face. He turned away from her._

"_Sirius, please..."_

"_Move, Ani, I'm leaving."_

_She paused and drew in a shaky breath. She took the plunge. "Fine. I can't make you stay. But if you're going, don't come back."_

_For a moment she thought it had worked. Something moved over his face the cold that had taken over his eyes for in the past weeks seemed to melt away. But in an instant, it was gone._

_He never came back to her._

---

The morning was bleeding into afternoon when a sharp sound echoed through the house.

Her nerves jangled, Ani sat bolt upright in her empty bed. _What the bloody hell?!_ she thought wildly, her pulse hammering. It took a moment for her to understand that there was someone at the door. She slumped back against her pillows, waves of exhaustion cascading over her as the adrenaline faded. _What a miserable night..._

For the past few days—ever since Lupin had made his painful reappearance—her sleep had been restless, filled with vivid dreams that left splinters in her conscious mind. Dreams about cool, green England that she missed so much... dreams about Lily and James... dreams about Hogwarts, the years she'd spent there, the people she'd met. And then the worst dream of all, the one that had haunted her for the past twelve years, the one that left her with tears coursing down her cheeks upon waking... the night she last saw Sirius Black.

Downstairs the knocking sounded again. Her heart still bruised from the last time she'd answered her front door, Ani considered ignoring it for a moment. Whoever was there would go away, eventually. But she still found herself rolling out of the mangled covers and wrapping herself in her dressing gown. If it were one of her patients, she couldn't hide here in bed while they needed her.

She headed through the house, noticing to her displeasure that the grey weather that had followed the storm had burned off to clear blue skies. "Damn," she muttered under her breath as she reached the first floor. "The weather was just beginning to match my mood."

She absently straightened her hair as she approached the door, wishing she'd stopped long enough to brush her teeth. She peaked through the glass and her heart gave a leap. A tall blond man stood on the step, a colorful smear of flowers in his arms.

_Lucas!_ A smile lit up her face as she tugged open the front door. She opened her mouth, about to speak, when her heart leapt into her throat and blocked all her words.

Orion Hellsing stood on the porch, a handpicked bouquet of roses and honeysuckle tumbling from his hands. "Your favourite, am I right?" her brother greeted her as he laid the flowers in her trembling arms.

"Rion!" Ani cried out, easy tears coming to her eyes. She embraced him with her free arm and let her brother crush her to his chest, burying her face in his corded shoulder. Words flowed as easily as the tears as her brother stroked the curls that tumbled over her shoulders.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice muffled against his shirt. He pulled back and smiled charmingly down at her as she snuffled and wiped at her eyes. "How did you—no. No, I don't even need to ask. Lupin, God damn him, that meddlesome little... I'll kill him, I'll—"

"Why don't you get those flowers into some water and I'll make you a cup of tea before we go about killing people?" Rion asked, pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket and dabbing at her lashes. "Not that I'll let you, by the way. I happen to owe Remus quite a bit of thanks."

He held her at arm's length and looked over her slowly and appraisingly, eyes intent on her face. "You look fabulous, sweetheart," Rion told her sincerely. "Not a day older than I last saw you."

She blushed and examined him too, his blue eyes and his gold hair that had neither thinned nor faded with his age. Only the creases in his face could remind her how long they'd been apart. "You're not looking so bad yourself for the wrong side of thirty," she told him, wiping the last of her tears off her cheeks. "Come on, we'll get you that tea."

They moved into the kitchen where Ani reached under the sink and pulled out a plump vase for her flowers. "And don't think that sweet talking me is going to save Lupin a flogging if I ever see him again." A sliver of her old anger moved up in her as she glanced sideways at Rion. "I suppose that's why you're here? To back him up?"

Rion shrugged maddeningly and pulled his wand out of his pocket. Ani winced at the sight of it, but he ignored her and conjured up a tea tray and some cakes. "Add that to missing you terribly and you'd still only be half right," he answered pointedly.

Ani felt a surge of guilt and gave him a half affectionate, half exasperated look. "Sorry."

"So what've you done with yourself, besides turning into a Muggle?" Rion asked her, pouring out two cups of tea.

"Don't start, Orion."

"Fine, fine." He held up his hands in surrender. He glanced around him and said, "Speaking of which... I was hoping to meet your gentleman. Lucas, right? Remus spoke so... er... highly of him. So where is he?" He winked. "Have you hidden him, worried that more of us are going to flock down and scare him away?"

Ani cleared her throat and joined him at the table, sitting across from him and accepting a cup. "He's not here... hasn't been here for several days now, as a matter of fact." She laughed shortly. "Said he needed some time to clear his head after finding out the woman he's practically been living with for the past seven years was lying to him the entire time."

A brother's anger filled up Rion's face. "He just up and left?"

She sighed and sipped her tea. "You can hardly blame him, Rion... he didn't care I was a witch, just cared that I didn't tell him." She set the cup down and looked at her brother. "He couldn't understand that it was something I wanted to put behind me, something I didn't want to be part of any more. He just saw it as a lie, a deliberate omission." Ani laughed again. "'Course, if I'd told him I used to be a witch, he wouldn't have believed me."

Rion cleared his throat. "About that, Ani—"

Her pulse thudded. "No." She held up her hand. "I don't want to talk about it, Rion." He leaned back in his seat, looking somewhat discouraged, and Ani quickly steered away from the danger. "Tell me about you! Tell me about home. What's going on?"

This was clearly the right thing to say. Rion grinned at her and, with his wand, conjured up a photograph, which he slid into her hand. Ani's hands trembled as she looked down at the smiling, waving figures: Rion stood beside a smiling, pretty redhead. Each of them held in their arms a tiny girl with strawberry blond curls. Rion leaned over and explained. "My wife, Carolyn... and the twins, Bridget and Sarah, that's Sarah with me."

She struggled not to burst into tears. _I've missed so much!_ "When did you get married?" she croaked.

"Five years this Christmas, Ani," Rion answered in a low voice. "The girls will be two in November. You've been gone a long time, darlin'."

His words brought the tears out again and she swiped at them, ashamed. Her brother reached out to take her hand and said quietly, "Don't cry. It's long over." He rubbed her hand gently. "Besides... we've more important things to discuss."

Foreboding ran its fingers down her spine. "Sirius Black."

"Yes."

"It's not up for discussion, Rion."

Rion's eyes darkened. "It's not safe for you to be alone and unprotected, Ani. I don't claim to understand why you left and if I thought you'd be happier and safer here, I'd leave you alone. But it's _just not so._ Black is mad and he's on the loose—" His voice shook: he paused, cleared his throat "—and I can't lose another member of my family."

The memory of their long-dead brother flooded Ani's head and she closed her eyes. "I didn't honestly think you'd resort to guilt," she told him bitterly.

"Desperate times, love."

"Rion, I just..." In frustration she pushed up from the table and began to pace. Her brother watched her steadily. "I can't go back, Rion, and furthermore I don't want to!" She turned pleading eyes onto him, begging him to understand. "Everything I've ever wanted to forget is waiting for me in England."

"I understand that, love, I do," he answered her, "but it won't be permanent. Hell, you can leave the minute Black's captured. I won't like it, but I'll understand. But please... for my sake... come back with me until then. You have to meet Carolyn and the girls anyway."

"I can't just leave!" she protested. "My house... my patients..."

"All of those things will wait. I'm sure it won't be long."

Her argument gone, Ani put a hand over her eyes and sighed wearily. A thousand fears seemed lodged in her chest, clawing and scrambling to be free. She choked out, "I don't know how I can face Mum and Dad."

Suddenly he was next to her and putting his arms around her. "You don't have to if you don't want to... though I wish you would. They still worry. But I won't make you. They don't even know I'm here."

She sniffled into his shirt and added in a low, petulant voice, "And I don't want to see Lupin."

He laughed and patted her back gently. "You don't have to... we'll stay in Salisbury."

"Give me a week to get ready?" she asked.

"You can't be alone that long, and I can't stay."

"How about two days?"

"Perfect."

---

She spent the next two days informing her patients that she would be gone indefinitely. Sarah Michaels—who would watch over her house—wept when Ani told her about the hiatus, and Todd Puckett's daughter May had wrapped herself around Ani's knees and begged her not to go. But she didn't start crying until she stood quietly on Lucas' front door step the hour before Rion was to come retrieve her.

He opened the door to her and for a moment they just stared at each other. His hair was squeaky clean but he looked as if he hadn't shaved since he'd left her house, and the rough layer of beard made him look older, and tired. His blue eyes held at her for a long moment before he spoke.

"Do you want to come in?"

She shifted uncomfortably and sighed. _Yes!_ Yes, she wanted to come in! She wanted to come in, to hide away from what she had to do, stay in America, make up with him and hide away for the rest of her life. But she couldn't.

"I'd like to, but I can't stay."

Lucas nodded and leaned against the doorjamb. The anger that had been in his face the last time she'd seen him had faded—now there was only a mild reserve. "You're worried," he observed. "Your accent's thicker; much thicker. Did you think I was going to snap at you?"

Ani made herself laugh. "No, it's not that... I've got other things to worry about."

"Such as?"

"I'm going back to England, Lucas."

He was quiet for a long moment. "I see."

She rushed, "Not permanently. My—my brother came to see me. I'm going back with him."

Lucas laughed, a sound without happiness. "I didn't even know you had a brother." He narrowed his eyes. "Is this because of your friend? Lupin?"

A stab of pain hit her heart. All the trust he'd had for her was gone. "No. I don't intend to see Lupin while I'm home." She hesitated, the lies she'd been so used to spinning to protect him, to protect herself, on the tip of her tongue. She fought against them and said slowly, "There's been a breakout from the wizard prison, Azkaban... a man escaped and my brother is worried he'll come after me."

"Did you know him?"

"I thought I did, once."

The reserve had gone from Lucas' face and now he looked almost frightened. He opened his mouth, then hesitated, and in a rush asked her, "Do you want me to come with you?"

Aching, she answered, "I'd like nothing better, sweetheart, but I just don't think it's for the best." She closed her eyes and clenched her fists and said carefully, "I don't even want to go back. The last time I was in England, I was a witch, and I gave that up because—well, it's not important why. I just didn't want it anymore. So needless to say, there's a lot of history and a lot of people I left behind who are waiting for me, and for my explanation."

She opened one eye, expecting a fight, but his eyes were resigned. "You do what you think is best," Lucas answered, and there was no bitterness in his words. "How long will you be gone?"

"Until they catch him... I don't know how long."

"Well, just... be careful, okay?" He cleared his throat and she knew how hard this must be for him. "And let me know how you are."

Unable to stop herself she flew into him and cinched her arms around his waist. He hugged her back, so tight she almost couldn't breathe. "I'm so sorry for all of this," she whispered in agony.

Lucas nodded, his chin bumping the top of her head, and nodded. "I know," he answered. He pulled back slightly and pushed her chin up to meet his eyes. "Would you have told me, Ani?" Her heart constricted as he said her true name. "I mean, eventually? If we'd gotten married or something, would you have told me?"

Not wanting to lie, unwilling to tell the truth, she answered as best she could. "If I had ever told anyone, it would have been you."

He nodded, satisfied with her answer, and gave her a long, slow, heartbreaking kiss. Their tears mixed. "I love you, little otter," Lucas told her as she pulled away, her breath coming out in hiccoughs.

"I love you too," she whispered, and watched as he closed the door behind her.

_Just not as much as you deserve._

---

With a sigh Ani closed her large trunk and tried not to think of the velvet-wrapped box that sat at the bottom. She dragged it down the stairs and looked sadly around her home. She'd come to America with hardly anything, traveled through New York state living in hotels, and had come to Caprice just as old man McHerrin was putting his lodge up for sale. He told her she reminded him of his daughter—he gave her the lodge for practically nothing. She had been there ever since.

_Who knows when I'll be back to see it?_

She sighed and moved into her kitchen to make one last cup of tea before Rion arrived to take her back to England. As she sat at the first table she'd ever owned herself and sipped the hot chamomile, her hands were shaking slightly. Back to England. She couldn't help but feel terrified, despite the fact that everyone claimed this was for her own safety.

_And if Black does find you?_ a tiny voice in her mind inquired. _What will you do then, should he decide to kill you?_

"I don't know," she whispered back. Her fists clenched. "I don't know."

There was a telltale _crack!_ and Ani knew, though she hadn't heard the sound for years, that Rion had Apparated inside her house. "I'm in the kitchen," she called out, rising to rinse out her teacup. "I'm ready to go."

A swishing sound, that of long robes and a cape, moved through the hall and Ani frowned slightly. Rion had come to her last time wearing Muggle clothing—surely he would do so again? A grip of fear caught her and against all her logical reasoning, her heart screamed.

_It's Black!_

She backed up against the sink and thought, panicking, of the box she'd placed in her trunk. If only it were in her reach! She groped blindly behind her for the butcher knife that stood waiting. _It's all I've got..._

But an instant later her fear was gone, and it was replaced by a shock and a loathing so intense that she was amazed it didn't knock her on her rear.

He was taller than he'd been when she'd last seen him, but otherwise he was exactly the same. Tall, dark and oily, with a hooked nose that protruded from his face like a malignant parrot's beak. Dressed all in black, Severus Snape—former Death Eater and former member of the Order of the Phoenix—stood in her kitchen, a sneer on his lips.

Words nearly failed her. "You!" she snarled, pushing away from the countertop. "What are you doing in my home?"

"I should think that was obvious," Snape replied imperiously, looking at her with colorless eyes. "I'm taking you back to England... to Hogsmeade, to be exact, where you will be staying until the murderer Sirius Black has been caught."

"Like hell I am!" she retorted angrily. "I'm going home with my brother, to Salisbury!"

"Yes, well, that _was_ the plan," Snape answered. "No more. Your brother informed our mutual friend the werewolf of his intentions and both Lupin and Albus Dumbledore took objection to it. It appears they believe you will be safer in Hogsmeade, where better wizards can keep an eye on you." He lifted one brow and his sneer deepened. "Though I think it's quite a waste, honestly, to be putting such protection over you. Let the traitors destroy one another... we'd all be the better for it."

Her mouth dropped open, blazing with anger, her vision blurring. _This piece of filth dared to call _her_ a traitor?!_

She drew breath, ready to tell Snape just what he could do with his wand, when he turned on his heel and stalked out of her kitchen. "Come along," he called after her, "and don't make me use force. I've much more important things to do than spend my time nursemaiding you."

Never. She stood her ground, refused to move. How _dare_ Lupin and Dumbledore presume to treat her like a child this way? How dare they?!

"Now!" Snape shouted, and suddenly Ani felt as though invisible threads were winding around her feet and waist and neck. She was propelled forward, unable to stop, ensnared by Snape's magic. She slid into her entranceway, where Snape stood by her trunk, his wand raised. She crashed into the trunk and gripped it, glaring up at him, wishing she were a dog so she could rip his hand from his flesh. "Hold on to your trunk," Snape ordered, placing one hand upon it as well. "And don't let go."

"You miserable—" she started, but her words were cut off. Something hooked behind her navel and in a flare of color she was being hurtled forward, far, far forward, against her will. Her trunk was a Portkey. She was going to England, whether she liked it or not.

With _Snape._


	6. Angry Words

**Disclaimer: **I make no claim on J.K. Rowling's characters: they are hers and hers alone.

**Author's Note: **Welcome back to Hogsmeade, ladies and gentlemen. I know I've missed it. And no offense to Lucas, but the magical England is much more exciting than Muggle America. Anyway, continue to read and review, but don't stop there! Tell your friends! Tell your enemies! Tell anyone! I'm the typical author, I require having my ego boosted at all times. And now, the story continues... with Snape!

**Addendum: **Sorry this took me so long and that it's so short. It's really background and filler stuff... and for that I apologize. Personal dramas and all that have kept me preoccupied. But I promise to be more prompt on the next chapter. So don't lose faith!

---

Because he was accustomed to traveling by Portkey, Severus Snape arrived in the garden of the cottage in Hogsmeade smoothly and calmly. He watched as Andromeda Hellsing stumbled and fell to her knees amid a riotous flowerbed, throwing her hands out to slow her momentum. He resisted the instinct to step forward and help her to her feet—she, much like her formerly intended, had always been proud. _She'd rather be on her knees in the dirt than accept help from anyone,_ he thought. And though he would never, never admit it, this was one thing he had once admired about her.

Severus Snape had his own brand of pride that had been instilled in him in his earliest formative years. Having a highbrow Pureblood father had that result more often than not. And because of this feature he found himself harder than most to impress. It was a trait he enjoyed possessing: it made him a more discriminatory teacher, and as a result his highest-level Potions classes were filled with only the best and brightest. He might not be universally liked—or liked at all, for that matter, but that was merely a technicality—but no one could deny him his intelligence or his teaching ability.

He first noticed his impossibly high standards as a young man attending Hogwarts. Because of his mother's influence in his upbringing, he would never challenge or belittle a professor in front of them—nevertheless, he found himself regarding nearly all his instructors as imbecilic at best. He had outstripped his own Potions master by the age of thirteen, and had to fight to keep this quiet victory to himself. This caused him to view most—though not all—of his professors with a certain amount of disdain.

His one teacher he did maintain a degree of respect towards was Minerva McGonagall: he had never liked nor wanted to excel in Transfiguration, but he knew enough of the basic premise to do passably well. Of course, passable work in a talented student was not acceptable to McGonagall. He would still remember the hot, angry embarrassment and shame that had filled him for weeks as one day—when he was half-attempting to turn a beetle into a coat button—she held him after class and gave him the most thorough tongue lashing he had ever experienced. She told him how shameful it was for him to deny his natural abilities simply because he didn't like the class. He glowered at her for weeks after that, bordering on rude whenever she questioned him in class... but he forced himself to improve. And as the years went by and his ability in Transfiguration shot up ten thousand fold, he put away the childhood resentment and allowed himself to admire her—a fact he kept to himself, of course, now that they were colleagues.

Then there was, of course, Dumbledore.

The Dark Lord loathed Albus Dumbledore, and his followers were expected to follow suit. This was easy for Severus, initially, as the bane of his existence, James Potter, had made his way into Dumbledore's good graces early and was widely acknowledged as one of the Headmaster's favourites. The umbrage came quickly, and was easily cultivated. But no longer. He could hold no grudge against Dumbledore. Dumbledore gave people second chances—even people like Severus who might not have entirely deserved them. And for that, Severus honored him.

The expectation that everyone should be as naturally talented and well schooled as himself also kept young Severus from making any variety of friends. True, he had his housemates—who he believed associated with him only because he was Pureblood, and such was the thing to do—but it was over the course of the years that he grew to disdain them as well. And so it was to his intense surprise that he found himself impressed by the magical abilities of two young witches, neither of whom was even in his house—one of whom who wasn't even Pureblood! But he noticed it in his second year at Hogwarts, and the feeling had only grown throughout his schooling.

One of them was Lily Evans, Mudblood and teacher's pet as the other Slytherins sneeringly commented. And the other—she who sullied her name by befriending such a disgrace to the wizarding world—was Andromeda Hellsing, also called Ani.

Lily Evans was just short of perfection. Even before he could fully appreciate the female form, Severus noticed this about her. She was, unchallenged, the most beautiful witch Hogwarts may have ever seen. (After her death, Severus would think to himself that it was a pity Lily had never had a female child who could inherit her beauty.) And, despite her unfortunate upbringing, she had pure talent coursing through her veins. He never thought this about any other Muggle born student, but Severus knew that Lily _deserved_ to be schooled at Hogwarts. But despite this talent and beauty that she possessed, Severus could not openly admire or befriend her. It just wasn't done as such. She was beneath him; he was her superior. And so even before she had taken up with the despised James Potter and his sycophants, Severus had gone out of his way to bury his secret admiration of her.

Ani, however, was another story.

Severus had no reason to dislike Ani Hellsing. Before an incident in their fifth year that brought about Ani's distaste for him, Severus and Ani had never been enemies. Certainly he had been warned against her—Sinistrus Snape had nothing but contempt for the Hellsing family, who had raised their children as Muggles until they were old enough to understand and cultivate their powers. But Cephas Hellsing was a respected Ministry of Magic member, as was Sinistrus, and so Severus and Ani had often intermingled outside of Hogwarts. She may not have had her best friend's raw talent, but she had something else, something Severus had to acknowledge along with everyone else. Ani had the power to be great. It was the natural gift of her pristine bloodlines and her innate ability to learn, and so while she had her struggles, she was always a top student. And while Lily's natural talent had earned Severus' quiet esteem, Ani's thirst to become her best was what earned his approval.

_Of course,_ he thought now, watching her struggle to her feet, _that was before she made the mistake of consorting with Sirius Black._

After Sinistrus Snape had died and the somewhat older Severus no longer feared his father's reproval, he knew that Ani Hellsing would have made a good, solid choice for a wife for any wizard. She was talented, Pureblooded, intelligent and as loyal as her Gryffindor placement suggested—had circumstances been different, Severus might have thought of courting her. He had no romantic feelings towards her; he really had no romantic feelings towards anyone. But not only was she socially acceptable, he also had a degree of genuine respect for her: what more could one ask for in a wife?

However, Severus had no illusions. There were, of course, circumstances. And Severus knew that the minute the castle started buzzing about seeing Black and Hellsing holding hands in the corridors that he never stood a chance.

He had never liked Sirius Black. Besides Black's determination to make his life hell, he was also arrogant and thoughtless, and had a natural talent in almost everything that needed no honing. What was worst was that he _knew_ this, knew he was talented, knew he didn't have to work at it, knew that he was handsome and charismatic and milked this fact for all it was worth. Yes, Snape despised Black. And when Ani went to his side and accepted his proposal of marriage, the respect Severus had for her was dealt a crippling blow. But what made it worse, what cemented Severus' hatred for Sirius Black fully and for eternity, was the betrayal and murder of the former Lily Evans and her husband, James.

Severus knew he was not a kind man. He knew he was not a gentle man. But he prided himself, after all those years, on being a _just_ man. A man who, despite all his flaws and failings, upheld personal decency and believed in the reward of the righteous. Black, in his mind, was exactly the opposite.

Severus never claimed to have been bewitched by the Dark Lord—in fact, it was he who sought Voldemort out, long ago in his youth. But as age took hold of him, he realized that life was not for mortals to mete out as punishment or as reward. For this reason he turned spy against the Death Eaters, those he had once claimed were his only true family, and had joined Dumbledore's order. He had seen the error of his ways, and knew he would spend his life repenting for them. But he thought, nay, hoped, that by turning his cloak he could somehow cease the madness, and perhaps put a stop the senselessness of Voldemort's _jihad_ on those he resented and despised.

But for every cloak that turned, so did another. And not long after Snape had come back to good had Sirius Black betrayed the Potters to Voldemort and murdered Peter Pettigrew and twelve other innocent bystanders. The news was staggering to all, especially those who had thought they were joined with Black against the Dark Lord's work—everyone, that is, except Severus. He felt he should have known sooner.

After Black's betrayal and tiny Harry Potter's staggering and unexpected defeat of the Dark Lord, Dumbledore's order had dispersed. And not long after that, Severus—living in London at the time and working for the Ministry of Magic—learned that Andromeda Hellsing, grief stricken, had fled England. No one had heard from her since.

Over the years, Severus found himself from time to time wondering what had happened to the pretty witch he had once admired, but on the whole, he didn't trouble himself with it. It was not until the murderer Sirius Black had escaped from Azkaban prison that he found out the truth when Dumbledore, fearing for the life of one of his own, had informed him of Ani's whereabouts and given him the task of retrieving her

_Living as a Muggle that whole time,_ Severus had thought as he prepared to make for America. The idea of it made him curl his lip in disgust. _I don't care how stricken she was—there is nothing worth denying your people. _The last traces of his respect for Ani Hellsing had vanished at that, and now he watched her turn to him, her face livid, with the familiar flooding of distaste in his veins.

Pushing his memories to the side, he lifted his wand to levitate her trunk into the house. "Come," he instructed her. "This is where you will be staying. Dumbledore has had it furnished for you. You will stay here until the murderer is caught."

He was about to turn to move into the house when Ani stalked toward him. He was suddenly and forcibly reminded of a tigress with bloodlust in her eyes.

He should have moved, should have done something. Instead, he just stood there as Ani charged towards him and, with all the strength of her tiny body, slapped him across the face.

---

_I'll kill him._

She lunged again. Angry, bloody welts rose where her fingernails had raked Snape's doughy skin and she wanted nothing more than to hit him again and again until the blood poured down his face like the tears streaming off of hers. But before she could reach him a second time a hand reached out and grabbed her wrist while a second encircled her shoulders and pulled her away from her victim.

"Let me _go!"_ she shouted, struggling against the firm hold, her shoulders straining against her captor's forearms.

"I'll do no such thing," a maddeningly calm voice replied. The familiarity made her blood boil.

"Remus Lupin, if you don't take your hands off of me in the next two seconds I'm going to take your wand and shove it up your ass!" Ani snapped.

Snape made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a scoff. "The lady doth protest too much, methinks," he quipped. He pulled a dingy handkerchief from his pocket and calmly dabbed at the blood on his face. He turned disdainful eyes onto the two others before him, watching Ani struggle fruitlessly against Lupin's hold. "It seems that your concern is ill spent, Lupin," Snape remarked acidly. "Such manners; not two seconds here and she's already striking and swearing."

Lupin's fingers tightened on Ani's shoulder, but otherwise he made no motion. "Thank you for retrieving her, Severus," he said, and though Ani couldn't see him she could almost hear his jaw clench. "Ani, if you'll calm down for a few moments I'll try to explain what's going on to you."

She checked her urge to physically lash out again and instead focused her energy on staying perfectly still. "I have personally had enough of your explanations," she answered, hoping her voice wasn't shaking as badly as her heart was pounding. Her fingers, trembling with rage, wiped away her tears as she tried to collect herself. "So if you'll kindly let me go, I will go up to the castle and ask Dumbledore what, exactly, he thinks he is doing."

"The Headmaster is out on very important business, Miss Hellsing," Snape informed her, "which is why I was sent in his place to retrieve you."

Ani bit down and heard her teeth groan against the pressure. "_Fine,"_ she spat through her teeth. She turned on her heel and gave Lupin a hard, quick shove in the chest. Unawares, he stumbled backwards, releasing her as he went. She stalked towards the gate that separated the cottage from the path to the village, which was growing quietly busy under the midmorning sun.

She heard Lupin's footsteps behind her before he reached her and so managed to yank her arm away before he could grab her wrist. "Ani, where do you think you're going?" Lupin asked her, a jab of impatience in his tone. "You can't go off by yourself, that's the whole reason you're here."

"I'm going to the Three Broomsticks, and I am going to take the Floo to my brother's house in Salisbury," she answered him, "though why it's any of your business I can't really see."

He grabbed her wrist and jerked her around to face him. Ani, vaguely surprised at this display, tried to hide the face as she glowered up at him. His eyes were shards of broken glass, but otherwise his face showed no sign of his anger. _Lupin always was good at keeping himself in check,_ she reminded herself.

"In case you have yet to notice, there are many people who are quite concerned about your safety," Lupin informed her tersely. "And despite your childishness, I happen to be one of them. That's why it's my business, and I'll thank you to remember that."

"You can save your concern," Ani retorted. "It's wasted on me."

"I'm beginning to agree with you," Lupin spat back. "Be that as it may, however, the damage is done and you are here under my and Dumbledore's protection. And no matter how much of an adult you might believe you are, when it comes to Sirius Black you are as defenseless as a child." He cleared his throat. "I recognize the fact that you have no wish to be associated with your powers anymore. I don't intend on changing your mind. However, I should think you could swallow whatever block you have against it and be prudent. Carrying your wand again, even out of practice, could gain you precious time should you be cornered by Black."

Ani forced a snappish laugh. "My wand, oh that's a joke. I rid myself of it years ago—snapped it in half and good riddance."

She could tell by his face that Lupin bought the lie, and felt a swoop of shame in her stomach. _All's fair in love and quarrels,_ she thought.

"Then I am even more convinced that you should not be out alone." He pulled out his own wand and pointed it at Ani's foot.

"Just what do you think you're doing?" Ani demanded.

"Protecting you," Lupin answered. "_Advigilo!"_

A glistening silver band shot out of the tip of Lupin's wand and wrapped itself around Ani's ankle. She felt the slight weight of it and shot her eyes to Lupin's face in disbelief. "Did you just bind me to the house?!" she shouted.

Without waiting for an answer she pushed for the gate and found herself repelled from it upon her approach as surely as if she'd walked into a wall. "This is insane!" Ani screamed, throwing herself against the warding. "I'm not a fucking child, Lupin!"

"Ani, listen," Lupin attempted, but she swung at him as soon as he approached. She was out of control, off balance, fighting back her frustrated tears. Lupin stepped out of her reach and gave her a quietly appraising look. "You're obviously too upset to discuss this rationally," he commented, "and so I think it would be best if I left you."

"Good!" Ani snapped, stalking past him towards the cottage again. "I can't stand the sight of you anyway!"

The moment the words were out of her mouth she regretted them—like it or not, Lupin was the only way she had right now to get in contact with her brother. And angry though she was with him, more than anything she did not want to be alone in this house. She turned to call him back, to tell him she hadn't really meant it... but he had gone.

---

In his steadily emptying apartment, Remus steadied himself against a wall, drawing in slow deep breaths. The hatred in her voice! The disgust on her face! Initially, when she was angry, he could have understood. But now there was too much honesty to ignore.

"She hates me," he said aloud.

The words hurt more than he would ever be willing to admit.


	7. A Change of Heart

**Disclaimer: **J.K. Rowling owns the majority of these characters—I sure don't. I just like to play with them on occasion.

**Author's Note:** Yes, I know it's been awhile and yes, I know this chapter is abysmally short. Please bear with me. I entered myself in the annual National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) contest—my goal is to write a novel (50,000 words or approximately 175 pages) by midnight on November 30th. So until then, that's my major project. However, I felt it wasn't fair to neglect you all for that long, so here you have another dream/memory sequence. Enjoy, and as always, read and review!

---

_May 24th, 1980._

_Shifting the heavy bags in her arms, Ani knocked rapidly on the door of the Potters' flat. Bang bang bang! She waited impatiently for a moment and knocked again. "Get the lead out, Lils, I'm about to drop a week's worth of groceries on my toes!" she called._

"_There in a moment!" The door opened and Lily backed out of the way. "Sorry," she breathed, her pale cheeks bright. "I'm not as quick as I used to be." She put her hands affectionately on her swollen belly. _

"_No problem," Ani answered cheerfully. She leaned over and kissed the ever-growing bump that was Lily's stomach. "And how are you two today?"_

"_I'm fine and the baby's wide awake," Lily chuckled. "Thanks for offering to get the groceries for me, by the way—my cupboards are bare and I needed something to fix for James when he gets off of work."_

"_Not a problem—the more you stay off your feet the better, Lily. I swear you get bigger every time I see you," Ani commented, edging past her into the flat and moving into the kitchen. She sat the groceries on the table and turned around, grinning. "You sure you're not having twins?"_

_Lily groaned and feigned a fainting spell. "Don't even joke about such things," she said, mockingly stern. "If the pregnancy's any indication, I'm going to have my hands full with just one! I couldn't sleep last night for his kicking."_

_Ani's eyes lit up as she put a head of cabbage into the crisper. "It's a boy? How do you know?!"_

_Her best friend shrugged and settled in at the table. She pulled her wand out of the pocket of her robes and waved it; a set of knitting needles zoomed into the room and settled onto the table. They started clicking away, working on a tiny, soft green infant's cap. "I don't," she replied, watching as Ani moved around the kitchen, putting cans and boxes away in the cupboards. "It's just a hunch, really... I haven't said anything to James yet," she confessed. "He wants a boy so badly, I don't want him to be disappointed if it's a girl."_

"_Don't be foolish," Ani said gently. "You know James will be happy no matter what sex the baby is."_

"_Yeah," Lily said, smiling. "You're right."_

"'_Course I'm right." _

_The groceries finally put away, Ani moved for the kettle on the stove and started to make some tea. The two friends were quiet—Lily focused on her knitting and Ani focused on the tea—and Ani had to bite her tongue to keep from blurting out her news to her best friend. The timing had to be just right. _

_Finally, Lily spoke, her voice somewhat lower than normal. "Ani? There's some news... something I need to talk to you about."_

_Now! Not recognizing the tone in her friend's voice, Ani whirled around, unable to keep the grin off of her face. "I've got news too, Lil," she replied, and without waiting for Lily's response she extended her left hand. The dazzling union of opals and diamonds that Sirius had presented her with the previous evening caught in the light like a flickering flame. Lily drew in a gasp. "Sirius asked me to marry him, Lily!" Ani whispered, her heart swelling with joy. "We're going to get married!"_

"_Ani!" Lily threw down her needles, flew up from her seat and flung her arms around Ani, squeezing the breath out of her. "Are you serious?! Oh, of course you're serious! Oh, darling, congratulations! Tell me everything! When did it happen? What did he say? Was it terribly romantic?"_

"_Oh Lily," Ani breathed as they both sat down again, gripping hands. "It was incredible... He came in late from working last night—I'd been worried up until that point. You know how Sirius is, he can't wait to get home and get a square meal at the end of the day." They both laughed. "But he comes in and I'm just about to suggest we sit down to dinner when he grabs my cloak and grabs my hand and said, 'Come outside, there's something I've got to show you!'_

"_So we head out the door, and I'm thinking we'll go downstairs, out the front... maybe there's something in the street or something. I've got no clue what's going on at this point, and then he takes me and starts leading me up to the roof!" She closed her eyes, remembering the thrill of excitement that had coursed through her stomach. "Anyway, we get to the top of the stairs and he turns to me with that grin he and James get on their faces whenever they're trying to charm their way out of something. 'Close your eyes,' he says."_

_Lily giggled and squeezed Ani's hand. Ani felt as though they were fifteen again and laughing over their first dates. "Then what?!"_

_Ani savored the memory for a moment before continuing. "I protest, of course, ask why I've got to close my eyes... He just laughs and says, 'Trust me, lovely.' So I close my eyes and he grabs my hands and he pulls me out onto the roof. And Lily, it was so quiet! There wasn't a noise, not a cricket, not even traffic from below. So he lets go of my hands and says, 'Wait right here.' Then he rushes off, and I can hear him moving around and arranging something, and my heart's just pounding like crazy, I'm so nervous I'm about to die!"_

"_So then, finally, after what felt like a million years he says, 'Alright, Ani... Open your eyes.' And Lily, I opened them and I could have sworn that I'd fallen into a fairy tale. There were flowers _everywhere,_ roses of every color and moonflowers and jasmine and irises, flowers I'd never even seen before. And there was this little arbor, and there were faeries all over it, their wings glinting. I thought they were stars at first, it was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen in my life!"_

"_Oh, Ani," Lily sighed. "It sounds so incredible!"_

"_It was the most amazing thing I'd seen in my whole life." She paused, easy tears coming to her eyes at the thought of it, and went on, smiling. "Anyway, I'm just about speechless at this point. Sirius is standing in the middle of all of this, and he's looking at me like he hasn't seen me in years. 'Come sit down,' he says, and he takes my hand and leads me under the arbor where there's this bench." She cleared her throat. "So he sits me down and gets down on one knee—I'm crying, of course, there are tears falling down my face faster than I can stop them. And he takes my hand and he slides the ring onto my finger._

"'_Ani,' he says, kissing my hand. 'Ever since I've known you, you've brought more joy and light into my life than anyone else. I used to think that I'd be alone forever—that no matter what I did, I'd never find someone who'd want to be with me. And there just wasn't anyone I could ever see myself being with for the rest of my life. Except for you. You make me want to be a better man, because you deserve the best.' He tilted his head up, and the faerie lights caught in his eyes and I let out this little sobbing laugh. We're both crying by this point, our hands are shaking so badly. I slide off the bench and I'm kneeling with him, and he cups my face in his hands and oh, Lily, he kisses me. 'Be my wife,' he whispers. 'Stay with me forever. Have children and grow old with me. Ani, I've never wanted anything more than to be your husband. I love you. Marry me.'"_

_Lily laughed shakily and wiped away the tears falling down her cheeks. "And of course you said yes," she said, her voice trembling. "Oh, Ani, I'm so happy for you!" She reached out and hugged her best friend close. "Marriage is wonderful, Ani. You're going to be so happy, love, I just know it."_

_She pulled away and smiled. "Thanks, sweetheart," she said, kissing Lily on the cheek. She leaned back and sighed in relief. "I'm glad I finally told you, it took all my strength last night not to run over here and tell you straight away."_

_Lily straightened up, her face suddenly darkened. "Have you told Remus yet?" she asked quietly._

_Ani, surprised by this question, shook her head. "No, you're the first," she answered. "Besides, I suspect that he already knows—surely Sirius would've told the Marauders his plan?"_

"_He didn't tell James," Lily contradicted her. "I'm sure of that—James would've told me the minute he found out. We've been wondering when it would happen. And if he didn't tell James, I'm willing to bet he didn't tell Remus or Peter either." She furrowed her brow. "I think you ought to be the one to tell Remus, if you want my opinion."_

"_Why?" Ani asked, confused. "You act like it's going to be some great shock. Sirius and I have been together for years, and Remus has never said a word. That's long over, Lil, trust me."_

"_Oh Ani," Lily said in exasperation. "You and Sirius dating and living together and you and Sirius getting married are two very different things. I'm not saying he'll be angry, I'm saying he needs to hear it from you." Her eyes softened. "You know how Remus is... you know how much he cares about you. He's your best friend, I'm just saying you ought to tell him before Sirius does." _

_Ani faltered, the possible outcomes of such a conversation crowding into her brain. "You don't think... he'll be _angry_, do you?"_

_The redhead shook her head and reached out for Ani's hand. "No, I don't," Lily said softly. "I think that, if he's half the man I think he is, he'll be quite happy for you. But I still think he'd appreciate hearing it from you."_

_Comforted, Ani nodded. "I'll tell him as soon as I leave here," she promised. A sudden thought burst into her mind. "Oh, Lils, I'm sorry! You had news for me and here I've been gushing on for a quarter of an hour!" She tilted her head in anticipation. "What news do you have?"_

_Strangely, Lily's eyes darkened and a cold feeling moved into Ani's stomach. Something was not right._

"_Ani... James and I have to go away..."_

---

Ani woke up suddenly, tears streaming down her face. She glanced around the room she'd chosen as her own for the duration of her internment in Hogsmeade. For a moment—a brief, aching moment—Lily had been so close that Ani could smell her skin again. Now she was gone again, and the space where she should have been felt desperately, painfully empty.

Snuggling deeper into her pillows, Ani let out a sigh, fingering away the tears. She'd been in England for three days—three days where she had seen no other living soul—and every night she'd had a dream that left her waking in tears.

_Without a doubt,_ she thought, closing her eyes again,_ the worst dreams are the ones that come from memories._

Against her will, her mind flew to Lupin. She thought of that afternoon, after she'd spoke with Lily, when she visited Remus and told him her news. She could remember the look in his eyes, the flicker of something unnamable, and then the eventual and reassuring glow of happiness. "Congratulations," he'd whispered as he'd hugged her tight. "He's a lucky, lucky man."

_Your whole life, no matter what you've done or said to him, Remus has never been anything but kind and wonderful to you,_ a little voice reminded her. It sounded suspiciously like Lily. _Don't you think you owe him more than anger and fear? Don't you think you need to forgive him?_

_He left me,_ she shot back. _He left when I needed him most!_

_And now he's back_,the voice told her, _and you need him again. He wants to protect you, and you need a friend now more than ever. So why don't you swallow your pride and forgive him, Ani? You need him: you know you do._

She wanted to snap back—she was so lonesome she'd take arguing with a voice in her head over more silence—but before she could she heard a movement downstairs.

Her flesh pricked, but reason took over. _If he's bound you to the house,_ she thought, _he's probably done more than that to keep intruders out._

Her fingers trembling slightly, she rolled out of bed and pulled on her dressing gown, heading for the stairs. She descended cautiously, working to keep her footfalls quiet, and as she reached the first floor her heart gave a slight tug.

Flowers. She could distinctly smell flowers. And almost before she could make a move, she turned and saw Remus exiting the kitchen, his arms full of flowers from the garden.

He paused when he saw her, and her eyes welled up with tears. He cleared his throat, shifted uncomfortably, and set the vase full of flowers down on the hallway table. "I wanted to apologize," he said stiffly, gesturing to the flowers. "I should have come to get you and explained what was going on—it wasn't fair to spring this all on you this way and I'm sorry."

A familiar indignation moved into her heart, but Ani quietly and firmly pushed it away. _You do need him,_ she reminded herself, _no matter how much you hate to admit it._

"It's alright," she heard herself saying, and Lupin's brown eyes lit up in hope. "I was pretty wretched to you... and I'm sorry for that."

His face visibly relaxed as she moved towards him. Hesitantly she reached out and laid her hand on Lupin's bare wrist. "Can we... try this again? Maybe with a little less screaming and swearing on my part?" she asked.

He smiled, broadly, the first smile she'd seen on his face in far too long. It filled her heart. "Of course we can," he said softly, touching her hand. "I'd like nothing better."

"Me neither," she replied quietly. And it was the truth.


	8. The Rescue

**Disclaimer:** This is like my little thank you letter to J.K. Rowling. Dear Ms. Rowling—God bless you. God bless your characters and God bless your creativity. Thank you for letting me play with your glorious world. Love always, Tirzah

**Author's Note:** Okay. This is officially my main project again. (Huzzah!) And since you have all been so wonderfully patient with me, I'm giving you what you have all been waiting for. Ladies and gentlemen (oh, who am I kidding? Ladies and ladies!), I give you some background on what has happened in the past months of the beautiful, the misunderstood, the tall, dark and handsome… Sirius Black! (Oh, and a cameo from yours truly… but I promise not to make a move on Sirius. Ani could kick my ass; I'm sure of it.) As a result this will be slightly AU, simply coz I don't really know all the details of what went on during Sirius' exile… these are just my ideas.

---

In the darkness of the cold northern forest, in the middle of a fir-wreathed clearing, on a cold, damp bed of grass, Sirius Black lay dying.

Though he had not often contemplated death, Sirius had always assumed that his would occur in his warm, soft bed while looking up at the tear-stained faces of those mourning his passing. He certainly did not envision this inglorious, wretched, lonely death.

He hadn't the strength to maintain his Animagus form, but he no longer feared discovery. What did it matter? He was dying. All he could focus on now was the slow, shallow rasp of his own breathing, wrenched and forced in the quiet of the clearing. Soon even that would fade entirely—he would die alone, and when he was found, his tombstone would read "Murderer".

_We are born into this world as we leave it,_ his weary, fever-addled brain whispered. _Ever alone._

The spare bit of reason remaining in his mind argued that, were he discovered after death, the body of a shaggy dog would receive a much more decent burial than the body of Sirius Black. So one last time he struggled to morph black into the great black creature he'd been before. It was no use, though—his magic flared briefly and then faded, a meager wisp of flame nearly extinguished by a hateful wind.

_James,_ he moaned inwardly, too weak even to manifest the physical tears. _Lily. Harry. Maybe in the afterlife they'll forgive me. I couldn't right this wrong. Peter Pettigrew still walks free. I've failed my family._

_And Ani,_ a secret, selfish part of him—the part he'd had to fight so as not to surrender to, the part he'd had to fight against to keep from tearing the world apart to find her—whispered. _ Ani still believes you're a murderer. _

And with these agonizing thoughts, Sirius Black surrendered to Death.

But Death did not come.

Time—an indeterminate amount—passed. Hazy splinters of memory and dream twined and pooled in his mind. He could not discern the two. He felt as though he were floating through a cold black mist. His brain and body were weak, disconnected. But through the fog one thing felt warm and solid and clear: a slender hand was holding his own.

"Can you hear me?"

He fought to answer her, but his lips simply would not respond. Instead he squeezed the long and delicate fingers with all the strength he could muster—but even he knew it was scarcely a flickering.

More time passed, and then, "Try not to move… you've been ill. Just lie there; you'll be okay."

As his consciousness started to fade, he managed to slit his eyes open. A woman's face floated in front of him—her hair gleamed red.

_Lily?_ Had he passed into the Otherworld? Had Lily come to guide him? Was James somewhere nearby? He struggled to make sense of his surging surroundings.

Instead, he fell asleep.

---

With a sigh the old man straightened his spectacles and sat back in his chair. "He'll be fine; I think the worst is over."

The girl behind him slumped in relief. "Thank God," Tirzah said, her voice leaden with exhaustion.

"Gotten fond of him, have you?" Dr. Searles asked, tottering a bit as he rose from his seat. Tirzah moved forward quickly and took his elbow.

"I can't exactly help it," she responded wryly as they left the tiny bedroom, catching the latent disapproval in the doctor's voice. She took his coat off a peg by the front door and handed it to him. "He's so helpless; I couldn't stand it if he died."

"Well, you've done everything you could," the doctor answered. "His fever is down and the wound is healing nicely; those stitches have really sped things up. He should wake up on his own any time now—and I'm sure he'll be very grateful to you."

"I just did what I had to do," Tirzah said.

The doctor paused by the door. "You do know what we must do when he recovers, don't you?" he asked gently.

She hesitated. "Yes, I do. And once again, I can't thank you enough for your discretion when I found him—but I just couldn't turn him in."

"Well, now that he's recovering, we need to go to the authorities," Dr. Searles insisted. "I can't tell you how concerned I am about you here, alone, with a mad killer in the next room." He sighed and looked at her sternly with the air of an uncle chiding a favourite niece. "Town is so far away; if you were in danger, no one would know until it might be too late. I wish you would take my advice and have someone come and stay with you."

Her fists clenched, but Tirzah remained outwardly calm. "We agreed when I brought you here that, at least for now, the fewer people who know that this man is here, the better," she reminded him. "He's harmless right now… he can barely move. I'm in no danger. There's no need to alarm anyone else."

"Perhaps," Dr. Searles answered, ostensibly unconvinced. "But I think it would be best if, when I return to town, I call the police and let them know the situation."

"Not until he has his strength back," Tirzah insisted. The doctor sighed and she moved forward, earnest and concerned. "Doctor, please. Just a few more days. Let him heal. Then we can call the police. But not until then, please… I'm begging you, what harm can it possibly do?"

Dr. Searles sighed and pulled at the wisps of his white beard. "I don't like it, Tirzah," he said sternly. He looked at her and his pale blue eyes twinkled slightly. "But I have the feeling that if the authorities were to show up here tonight, they'd never find the lad, would they?"

Tirzah smiled. "Thank you, Doctor."

He harrumphed and reached into his bag, pulling out a small white bottle. "After he wakes, give him broth and tea… no solid foods, even if he asks for them. And as soon as he's able to keep it down, give him one of these pills every four hours."

"I will," she promised. "And thank you again."

As the doctor left the little house, Tirzah breathed a sigh of relief and locked the door firmly behind him. _Finally._

She'd heard the news reports detailing the escaped murderer Sirius Black when she came to England in July for her grandfather's funeral, but her grief kept her otherwise occupied. Besides, there was no reason to be concerned: in the entire country, what were the odds that she would ever run into the murderer? She lived in New York City, for Christ's sake. If she could survive there, she could survive in England. So it was without concern that she left her hotel in London and traveled north to spend the remainder of her holiday cleaning out the cabin her grandfather had owned and visited in his healthier days, outside of a small town called Shelton that she'd visited often in her youth.

It was Tirzah's second to last day in the cabin when she found him—she'd almost finished the final scrubbing; only the furniture, which would be donated to the local parsonage, remained. She'd awakened that morning and been unable to fall back asleep, and so after making herself a cup of strong coffee, she set out on a walk in the cool early morning mist. There was a clearing she remembered from her youth very close by—she would go there.

She had just come through the trees and was blinking in the sudden brightness of the thicket when her stunned eyes fell upon the body of a man, close to her own age, lying as though dead in the grass. His skin was sallow and ashen, stretched tightly over the bones of his face. He wore tattered, colorless robes—_Robes?! _her bewildered mind had wondered—which were stained on one side with a glistening, sticky mass of blood.

Ignoring her shock, Tirzah rushed to him and pressed her fingers to the pulse point on his neck. It was there—but only just. She pushed back to her feet: the wound producing all that blood suggested that she not attempt to move the body. But before she could run into town, she caught a glimpse of the man's face.

She recognized the mass of black hair that spread out on the grass like a matted black carpet. She recognized the glimpse of the tattoos that peaked from under the neck of the strange robe—runes, perhaps? And though his eyes were sealed behind slightly flickering lids, she knew that if they were open she would recognize them too: shuttered and black as a starless winter night.

The escaped prisoner, Sirius Black.

Her system shrieked with adrenaline. But as soon as the initial jolt had passed, compassion and reason battled in her gut. The man was a killer; she remembered the pricking of gooseflesh she'd felt as the news anchor listed Black's final death toll. She ought to run into the village and call the police, tell them she'd found the man that they'd been searching for since midsummer.

_Be that as it may,_ a small, secret part of her whispered. _He's hurt. He may be dying. And what can you bet that they would simply leave him to die? He may be a murderer… but he's still a human being. He doesn't deserve this death._

She groaned audibly and moved back to his side. "Gods forgive me for being such a fool," she muttered. She fumbled for his hand—she wanted to stay as far from the wound as possible. She wrapped her fingers around his skeletal ones and leaned close, asking softly, "Can you hear me?"

He stirred but did not wake, and his fingers barely pressed on her own. Tirzah sat back on her haunches and observed him carefully; he was tall but as fragile as a bird, all skin and bones. She could tell by looking at him that he'd once been powerfully built—no longer.

"I'm going to try to move you," Tirzah said, feeling foolish. He probably couldn't hear a word she said. "Hold still… this may hurt."

It took a great deal of grunting and gasping, but within a half an hour Tirzah had managed to half drag, half stagger Black back to her cabin. She settled him as gently as possible and, with a faint stirring of panic rising in her stomach, surveyed the situation. All that movement seemed to have opened the wound at his side again: the black, congealed blood started to glisten red once more. Gingerly, she pushed open the slashed fabric and recoiled, her stomach roiling. Three long, deep slashes gouged the flesh—it looked as though the man had been speared with a pitchfork.

Her "orderly accountant's mind" that her grandfather had once teased her about started a-clicking. _What an angle to be hit from,_ she thought, leaning closer for a better look. _The marks go sideways instead of up and in. Why, it looks as if… as if he were on the ground already, on his hands and knees when he was struck. _She sat back, chewing on her lip. _That's strange._

An unbidden wave of sympathy moved up in him—stabbed with a pitchfork, honestly. Surely that had not been necessary.

_Are you an idiot?_ she asked herself. _Of course it was necessary! The man's a murderer!_

From the bed Black gave a tiny, mewling moan that sent her flying for the medicine cupboard in the bathroom. "Murderer or not," she told herself sternly, "he doesn't deserve to be in pain."

So for the next few days she barely left her own bedside, cleaning the wound and sponging the fevered brow of the unconscious prisoner. Countless times she wondered if she were doing the right thing, wondering whether or not she should go to the police—and each time she wondered, she looked at her patient's face and knew that she could not give him up to his fate.

But that did not mean she didn't doubt herself. For the first few days she was certain she had failed, and that Sirius Black would die in her bed, and then what on earth would she tell the authorities? Those days he barely moved, his fever continually stabbing up in ridiculously high peaks. Those days Tirzah refused to sleep, instead focusing all her energy on keeping his waxy, ashen flesh cool and dry.

On the fourth day the fever had still not abated and Tirzah, weak from lack of sleep and by this point desperate, finally left his side and ran into the village to get Dr. Searles, the village's resident apothecary whom she'd known as a child. After desperately begging for a promise of his secrecy, Tirzah finally brought the doctor to her cabin and had him tend to her patient.

"It doesn't look good," Dr. Searles argued. "The damage may be too great already. I want to move him into my surgery, but the fact is he shouldn't be moved again. You're lucky you got him here at all."

"Just tell me what to do," Tirzah begged. "I can't just let him die."

"You may have no choice, girl," the doctor reminded her. "Sometimes these things are best left up to God."

_And God let me win this time,_ Tirzah thought, walking slowly back into the bedroom, her eyes fixed on the dark-haired man in her bed. She sat down on her chair and watched as slowly the fringed eyelids slit open to reveal two pools of black. _Now he's going to be fine. I just know it. _

---

The woman was not Lily.

As his strength slowly seeped back into his damaged body and his mind became clearer bit-by-bit, Sirius managed to get a better look at the woman who woke him from his unnatural sleep every so often to spoon warm, clean-tasting broth into his mouth.

Her hair was not, as he'd originally thought, the long curtain of red that Lily's had been. It was short and sleek and deep chestnut with auburn tones that caught in the light from the window. Her eyes were brown, not green, and cool where Lily's had been fiery. She was also older—though not by much—than Lily had been when she died.

Though at first his realization of this had brought disappointment, in the end he thought it was probably best: it meant he was not dying. And as much as he might like to die, he had work yet to do.

"Don't try to get up," the young woman advised on the first day he'd felt strong enough to open his eyes to survey his surroundings. She pushed him gently back into the bed. "You've had a nasty wound and a bad fever, and you're very weak. So just lie still. You're not in any danger here."

So he did. For days he lay in the fragrant bed (the mattress was old, stuffed with sweet woodruff—the fragrance had grown stronger as the stuffing dried) and slept. Oh, Lord, he slept. And as he slept his strength and his memory came back to him, fragments at a time.

_Escaping Azkaban. His heart yearning for Ani—his brain knowing that if he went to her now, he would never achieve his goal. Traveling South. Seeing Harry—his godson with Lily's eyes and James' face—in Little Whinging. Traveling to Hogwarts… Peter was there… Hiding in his Animagus form. Starving, steadily starving, sneaking into a chicken farm for food. Run off by the farmer, a wound in his side. Collapsing in the woods. Preparing to die._

And now, being saved by the young woman.

He'd opened his eyes that morning and looked around the little room: the young woman sat in a chair by the bed, a leather-bound book in her lap. She smiled when she looked up and saw him staring at her. "I'm glad you're awake." She leaned closer and studied him carefully. "Your color looks a bit better… Are you hungry?" she asked, closing the book.

Not trusting his voice, he nodded. "I'll go make you some more broth," she said, rising. "You must be sick of it by now, but the doctor has said not to give you any solid food. It'll take a few moments. Wait here, and I'll be back."

A sudden thought blazed a clearing through his foggy brain. She had to make the broth—not conjure it from a wand. She'd spoken of a doctor—not a Healer. And most importantly, the Ministry of Magic wasn't swarming the house to take him back to Azkaban. That only left one explanation.

His rescuer was a Muggle.

Before he could decide what to do the girl had returned, a steaming bowl held in both hands. She moved the chair closer to his bed and sat, lifting the spoon to his lips. Raising one brow at her, Sirius accepted the soup into his mouth. Since his infancy he'd never been fed like this—even when he laid abed with scarlet fever as a small child, his mother had never tended to him the way this girl did now. It was as if… as if she really cared if he lived or died.

Yet there was something wrong with the way she watched him.

_I must know what, if anything, she knows about me._

"What's your name?" he asked her. He winced—his voice, after long disuse, had decayed to a low, guttural croak.

"Tirzah," she answered, bringing the spoon to his lips once more. He struggled to sit up; she firmly put a hand on his shoulder. "Relax: don't push it. You'll pull the stitches out of that wound."

"Where did you find me?" he persisted, ignoring the increase in the throbbing of his side. Stitches: that explained the stiffness, at least. "Where are we now?" He pushed aside the sheets and struggled to sit up. His arms shook uncontrollably; this overt weakness disgusted him.

The Muggle sighed impatiently and left the room, returning a moment later with two more pillows. "If you insist upon sitting, at least lean on these," she ordered, leaning over to prop the pillows behind his head. He caught a brief wisp of the scent of her hair: apple-scented chamomile. The smell soothed him. Sitting down again, she picked up the bowl of broth once more. "As to where you are, you're in Shelton in North Yorkshire," Tirzah answered. "I found you in the woods; you were barely alive."

So he'd fled farther than he'd thought. He nodded absently and ran a hand over his face. The amount of growth in his beard startled him. How long _had_ he been gone from Azkaban? "May I—see a mirror?" he asked.

Confusion played over Tirzah's delicate features, but with a shrug she left the bowl and exited the room again. While she was gone he rapidly palmed his pockets—yes. The wand he'd obtained upon escaping Azkaban was still there. Relieved, he took the bowl in his hand—though her care was touching, he was not so weak he could not hold a spoon.

"This is the largest one I have," Tirzah stated as she returned. She traded him the now-empty bowl for a small hand mirror. He held it up to eye level and surveyed his face section by section. He had to repress a laugh. Ye gods, he looked wretched. The facial traces of his father that had developed as he grew older were no longer there—now there was only a skeleton.

She must have mistaken his expression, because Tirzah said, "When you're feeling up to it, I could run you a bath. You might feel a little better once you're, er, cleaner."

"No," he answered grimly, handing her the mirror. "This is fine."

_Let Pettigrew see me this way… let him see what twelve years of hatred and solitude have done. Let him fear me._

He turned his gaze now on the girl. Her chocolate eyes were wary, shielded, and despite her gentle and meticulous care of him, she held herself stiffly, her body angled away from his. This confirmed his suspicion: she must know who he was.

He took a gamble. "You haven't asked me _my_ name, Tirzah," he pointed out. "Don't you want to know your patient's name?"

Watching her carefully, his pulse picked up. Her eyes went sharp almost instantly and he knew she'd caught on to his ploy. The girl was sharp. "I already know your name, _Mr. Black_," she retorted, voice drenched with scorn. "I saw you on the news earlier this summer—I know who you are quite well."

_You may think that, but you have no idea, girl._ "So you know what I've done, then," he continued, buying time. He should have known that Fudge would alert even the Muggle media of his escape. Doddery old bastard. "And yet you cared for me still?"

"You were hurt," Tirzah replied tartly. "Was I supposed to just leave you to die? Or let the authorities do the same? Because they would have, I assure you. Mass murderers get very little sympathy from the police."

"That's no concern of yours," Sirius shot. "You said it yourself; I'm a murderer, girl. Cold blooded and ruthless, I believe is the term. You ought to have called the police and left me to my own devices."

Furious, she pushed up from her chair. "Well, you needn't worry," she snapped. "We can amend this very quickly."

Sirius blankly watched as she stormed out of the room. _Idiot! _ She'd done nothing but care for him and he'd acted like an ass. And now she was calling the police.

_Bloody hell._

He swung his legs over the bed. A wash of dizziness swooped over him, but he fought it. They'd never catch him.

---

"Ungrateful bloody cur."

Tirzah pulled hard on her cigarette and then dropped it to the ground, stamping it out in the grass. With every intention of going to Dr. Searles' and calling the police, she'd stormed out of the house. But as her cigarette—the one she kept in her coat pocket for emergencies, seeing as how she'd quit three months ago—flared up, her temper died down and she stood puffing morosely in the cool twilight.

Of course he was surly. He was going back to jail. But no matter how ungrateful he'd been to her, he was still very ill; turning him in would very likely only result in his death. The childish, ungrateful murderer would have to stay.

Cursing herself for being such a bleeding heart, Tirzah let herself back inside. The moment the door slammed shut behind her she turned into the bedroom and let out a gasp.

Black was half curled over the foot of the bed, his feet on the floor, clutching at his side and gasping for breath. Pain twisted his already warped features and his mouth worked desperately, fighting for air. His hands clutched the bed sheets like a lifeline.

"You idiot, did you think I was joking when I told you not to move?!" she demanded, storming into the room. She wrapped her arms around him and eased him back into the bed. "You've probably gone and pulled out your damn stitches!"

"Did you think I was going to sit here when you said you were going to the police?" Black groaned, but he was so weak that he scarcely protested when she settled him back against his pillows.

"Well, against my better judgment, I didn't call them," Tirzah informed him. She reached for his robes, ignoring his yelp of protest as she peeled them away from his wound. "Well, the stitches held, but they won't if you try to move again! So _don't_ even think about it!" For good measure she gave him a thump on the arm.

Black stared at her for a long moment and then, to her very great surprise, a smile began to spread over his features. Tirzah started. It was not the manic smile she'd associated with serial murderers either—it was a smile that suggested that, once upon a time, Sirius Black had been incredibly handsome. The gesture stunned her.

When he spoke, all the scorn was gone out of his voice.

"You could have turned me in several times, and I'd have been helpless to stop you," he said. "Yet you didn't. And for that I'm very grateful to you, Tirzah." He bowed his head slightly. "Forgive me; twelve years in prison seems to have preyed on my social skills."

"Apology accepted," Tirzah answered, feeling mollified and somewhat ashamed. For a murderer he certainly could be polite—she'd never have guessed. "I have to turn you in, you realize, even if I haven't yet."

"Well, when that day comes," Sirius answered, the smile darkening in his face, "I assure you that I will be long gone."

"What makes you think you'll be able to escape?" Tirzah said boldly. "You're in the middle of nowhere, I'll remind you. They'll find you eventually."

"My dear, I've taken precautions against that, don't you worry." He laughed, a laugh she couldn't interpret. "I assure you that your law enforcers will never find me."

_Your_ law enforcers. The odd sentence pricked her ears and sent her brain to spinning again. She asked, "What makes you so sure?"

"Girl, you wouldn't believe me if I told you," he answered dryly.

Tirzah sat in her chair and put her feet up on the bedside table. "Try me."

---

Sirius didn't know why he trusted Tirzah, but he did. And gods, it had been so long since he'd spoken to another human being that he could barely hold his tongue. As he spoke, Tirzah rummaged through a small black bag and produced six stale, short Muggle cigarettes. She stood by the window as he spoke and smoked them, one after the other after the other. She never met his eyes.

He'd flagrantly disregarded the International Statute of Secrecy. He'd told the story that no one else knew to a woman who would send him back to prison as soon as he was well. He'd betrayed his own kind. He ought to feel ashamed—he didn't.

_You have revealed yourself to the enemy,_ an old, dusty voice sneered at him. _You've exposed the existence of your kind to the very ones who sought to destroy you. You've become everything your father said you were—a disgrace._

_My kind,_ he retorted to the voice, _imprisoned me without a trial. One of my kind, whom I thought I called friend, betrayed the people I loved. One of my kind killed those same people. I owe my kind nothing._

He told her everything. He told her how the Potters were forced to go into hiding, how it had been he who had suggested that the traitor Peter Pettigrew be their Secret Keeper to throw the Dark Lord off the scent. He told her how he had done nothing but worry for their safety, night and day. He told her how one night his heart shrieked out in inexplicable pain, and how he found the Potters mere hours later: Lily and James dead, unmarked, the baby screaming in Rubeus Hagrid's giant arms. He told her how Hagrid had taken Harry—the last bit of his family—away in front of his very eyes. He told her how his heart, bleeding, had erupted into flames when he realized what Pettigrew had done. He told her how he'd confronted the bastard in the street, and how the little maggot had blown up the street with his wand behind his back and had raced into the sewers. He told her how he'd been dragged into the blackest place he'd ever been, and how every day he felt a piece of his soul die.

And then with shaking voice and aching heart, he told her about Ani. Everything he could remember. He told her about their school-children romance, about the fire of her golden eyes and the silk of her tumbling hair, about how he'd felt the final piece of the puzzle had fallen into place when she agreed to marry him. He told her how he'd watch her sleep at night, agonizing constantly that though the Potters were safe that he had endangered her by making himself the target. And, ashamed, he told her about how he'd tried so desperately to protect her by pushing her away, breaking the engagement, riding off into the night on his motorcycle while tears poured down her beautiful face.

When the story was over, he felt drained and somewhat foolish. She'd never believe him—Muggles were trained to ignore all evidence of magic that surrounded them. But he felt better, at least. Somewhat resigned, he reached slowly for the wand in his pocket—he hoped time hadn't caused him to forget the Memory Charms he'd learned as a child.

But when Tirzah turned to him, her eyes were shining with tears. Stunned, Sirius released the wand. His voice filled the quiet of the room, vibrating like the final, weeping note of a violin.

"You actually believe me."

Tirzah shrugged and fingered away the tears on her cheeks. "Why would you lie about something like that?" she asked softly. She gave a laugh. "It's too incredible not to believe, Sirius."

He nodded slowly. "You're right."

She laughed again, quietly. "You know, there was a girl that lived not too far away from me as a child. She was a bit older, of course—she used to go away for school, and of course I never thought anything of it. But I always thought she had this smile on her face, this secret satisfaction, as though she knew something we didn't—as though she were special." She looked over to Sirius and smiled at him. "Perhaps she was one of your kind. I'll never know. I haven't seen her in years."

They were quiet for a moment. Tirzah stepped away from the window and approached the bed again. She put her hand into his—her fingers were warm against his cold ones. She squeezed gently, and said, her heart in her words, "I am so sorry, Sirius."

He squeezed back. "You understand then why I'm fleeing?" Sirius asked. "You understand that I can't let him go free—he killed my family. I have to stop him."

"I know, Sirius… I know."

"So you'll let me go?" He felt hope—rare and almost forgotten—flare within him. "You'll help me?"

Tirzah sighed and squeezed his hand again. "Let's wait until you're well," she suggested. "Then we'll see what we'll see."

---

Tirzah fled through the woods back to her cottage. Her heart clamoring, she burst through the door. Sirius—looking the best he had since she'd first seen him—looked up, startled, from the chair by the fire in which he sat.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Doctor Searles called the police," Tirzah cried out. Sirius flew up from his chair and dashed to the windows, pulling the curtains closed. The room plunged into darkness. "I begged him not to, but he said he had no choice," she rushed on. "He's on his way here with several men from the village to make sure you don't escape! Sirius, I'm so sorry, I never thought—"

But she had no time to finish the sentence. Sirius flew to her and put his hands on her shoulders. The look in his eyes broke her heart. She gripped at his hands.

"I am eternally in your debt, Tirzah," Sirius said softly. "I cannot thank you enough for your kindness. Don't worry. I'll be all right." He reached into the pocket of his decrepit robe and pulled out a long, slender wand. "I'm going to modify your memory," he told her. "After the police come, they'll send for my Ministry. It will be over after that. But this way you can't tell them what I've told you—I hope this can protect you. It's all I have to offer, Tirzah. I wish I could help more, but I can't. You understand, don't you?"

"Of course," she answered. Her stomach churned—in the weeks she'd cared for Sirius she'd watched his strength return, and more and more she'd grown to care for him as though she'd known him for years. "Good luck," she whispered.

"Thank you." He raised the wand.

"_Obliviate."_


	9. The Start of the Term

**WHEEE!** Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince!!! July 16th!!!! Need I say more?!

**Disclaimer:** J.K. Rowling owns Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, Harry Potter, and all the other characters that inhabit their world. Call me a voyeur.

**Author's Note: **Finals have absolutely fried my brain. It wouldn't be so bad if I didn't have a poetry portfolio due as well. But alas. No more Sirius in this chapter, I'm afraid (but no worries—he'll be back). For those of you who have been wondering about the time frame, here's the skinny: this chapter will take place in the remaining days before the beginning of the term, where Remus will come face to face with Harry for the first time since Lily and James' death. Please continue to read and review and, most of all, enjoy! Happy Chrismahaunikwanzika to all of you!

---

Ani screwed up her face. The focus of her attention, a small ink-blue book, sat innocuous and still on the table across the room. Feeling the old surge of power, Ani took aim.

"_Evanesco!"_

To her intense (though somewhat guilty) satisfaction, in the space of a blink the book—one of many with which Remus had thoughtfully stocked the cottage—was gone. Ani crossed the room and placed her hand on the table where the book had been. She was sure there was a spell that was more complex, more appropriate for what she wanted to do—she simply didn't remember it. But the thing about magic, Ani was slowly remembering, was that as long as your brain was focused in the right direction, the spell often knew what you wanted.

The counter spell came easier—she had barely spoken the words when the book reappeared. _It's coming back. Slowly but surely. _She sighed, suddenly weary from all her practice. She snorted wryly. "Maybe Dumbledore will let me take lessons up at the school, since he's so hell-bent on keeping an eye on me," she said aloud. She pictured herself, three times older and half as tall as her classmates. The thought made her laugh.

Suddenly, Remus' now-familiar tip-tapping knock echoed through the cottage. Adrenaline-shocked, Ani spun around and whispered fiercely, "_Accio!"_ The slender box she'd summoned flew across the room, but it was too late: Remus stepped through the door and watched in amazement as the box flew into Ani's outstretched hands.

They stood there quietly for a few moments, a deep flush rising in Ani's clear face, Remus looking at her in unconcealed shock.

"Is that what I think it is?" he asked her incredulously.

Ani resignedly flipped open the old box and laid her wand on the bed of golden velvet, avoiding Remus' eyes as she did so. "What does it look like?" she answered.

"It looks like your old wand."

"Well then," Ani said softly, "I suppose that's what it is."

She brushed past him and put the box on the bookshelf, flicking her gaze up into his face. The crinkles around his eyes had deepened and she suspected he hid a secret, knowing smile. "I thought you said—oh what was it you said?" Remus asked, sweeping off his cloak and sending it to hang on a peg by the door. "You said you had 'snapped it in half and good riddance,' I believe?"

They met one another's eyes and smiled, small and rueful. "So, I lied," Ani admitted. "Let's just say I thought about what you said." Her fingers clenched. "If I ever see Black again, I'd like to make it a meeting he's bound to remember." She looked up into Remus' face and felt a slight buzz at the hope on his face. Pushing down her anger, she hastened to remind him, "I'm not saying that I won't go back to normal when this is all over. I still plan on going back to America when they catch him."

Remus simply nodded, his face blank, only the shadow behind his eyes any hint at his inner thoughts. "But for now, I'm practicing," Ani went on. "So when I see him, I'll be safe."

"I'm very glad to hear that," Remus replied, and the sincerity in his voice almost made her blush. "So you've been practicing your jinxes and defenses?"

"I'm working up to that," Ani responded. "I'm lucky I can still do simple summoning charms. I'm rusty and it's embarrassing." She told him her thought about being tutored at the school—he threw back his head and laughed. Ani was suddenly thrilled that she could still make him laugh.

"Well," Remus said, wiping the tears of mirth from his eyes, "the ability is there. We just need to help you remember." He placed his hands on her shoulders and squeezed. "Come on," he said, moving for the kitchen. "I'll make you dinner before I head back to London."

She followed him silently and settled on stool in the kitchen, watching as he cleared the counter space and began pulling down bowls. She hadn't seen him since their reconciliation—when he'd left he said he had some issues with his landlord with which he had to contend—and as she examined him she found herself growing vaguely concerned. The creases in his face seemed more pronounced than ever, the skin of his face stretched tightly over the bones.

"Spoke with your brother earlier today and gave him your letter," Remus commented, shooting a stream of flour into a bowl and whisking briskly. "I talked to Dumbledore to try to make an arrangement; we decided that Rion's going to bring down his wife and their girls so you can meet them sometime later this week—that way you can see them and you'll all be safe here. He's talking about taking some time off work to come stay with you."

So her internment was still on full force. She repressed a sigh. Despite all the books Remus had loaned her and the beautiful garden, Ani was going progressively mad with boredom. "Thank you," Ani answered, striving not to sound petulant. "I appreciate that."

"You're welcome," Remus answered. "So, I was thinking—"

He paused and grimaced, moving away from her. Ani sat up straighter as lines of pain ran over his turned back. Her vague concern grew into something stronger.

"You look wretched, Remus," she said worriedly. "Aren't you well?"

Remus sent her a wry glance over his shoulder. "Such a delicate way with words, Ani."

She flushed. "I didn't mean it that way, I—"

He waved a hand at her. "No, no, you're right," he sighed. Straightening up he poured the contents of one bowl into another. "It's nothing some sleep won't cure. I always look like this when the moon starts to wane. I'll start looking right again about the time I get sick again next month."

"Of course," Ani murmured, "the full moon just passed. I should have remembered."

She watched Remus finish the dinner preparations, chewing slightly on her lower lip. Something had been weighing on her mind: something she was afraid to bring up now that things between them were getting comfortable again. _How to ask him?_ she wondered.

Finally, Remus slid his concoction into the oven sat down before her. He conjured them each a cup of tea, handing hers to her with a smile. "Remus," she began, the question that had been on her mind since coming to Hogsmeade on her lips. "Don't think that I'm not touched that you're here to take care of me. Because I am—"

Remus snorted. "Whatever you've got to say, Ani, you don't need to buffer it," he told her. "I know how you hate being coddled—you've made that very clear." His eyes twinkled, telling her there was no hard feelings.

"I _did_ feel like that in the beginning," Ani confessed. "I'm trying to get past it. But anyway, my question is this. Can you honestly pick up so easily from London and just transplant? I mean, surely there's a job or a girl—" she tried to make it sound as though she were teasing, but the word girl stuck hard in her throat "—that makes you want to stay. And yet you transplant for me… after the way I acted? I don't understand it."

Her friend was quiet for a moment, sipping his tea. He finally spoke with a kind of wry humor in his voice. "Well, to be honest, I didn't transplant just for you," Remus told her. Ani blushed—when it came out of his mouth she sounded like a self-absorbed prat. Remus noticed the blush and patted her hand comfortingly. "Actually, I was out of work until just recently. Then Dumbledore offered me a job before I even knew that Black had escaped—so therefore, before I even knew that you were still alive and well."

A job? Ani sat bolt upright. "What kind of job?" she asked him.

Remus grinned, the kind of smile she hadn't seen on his face since they were children. "R.J. Lupin, Defense Against the Dark Arts professor at your service, madam," he announced grandly.

Ani clapped her hands together and, unable to contain herself, flew out of her seat and wrapped her arms around Remus' neck. He laughed and accepted her hug. "Oh Remus, how fantastic!" she cried, pulling away. "This is just what you've always wanted! Oh my God, congratulations, Remus."

"Thank you," he answered, smiling at her as she seated herself once more. "The term starts the day after tomorrow—I've been in London, trying to close down my apartment and preparing most of my lessons from the library there." He gave a little laugh. "I'm terrified, Ani, I can't afford to mess this up."

"You _won't_," Ani assured him. "You're a great teacher! You got me to pass Transfiguration, didn't you?"

Remus laughed. "I can't believe you remember that."

"Of course I remember," Ani said. "Don't worry, Remus, you'll do fine. I just know it."

"Well, thank you." He shrugged and continued. "And as for _girls_, let's just say that hasn't been a problem in recent years."

"Oh come on," Ani scoffed. "I find that very difficult to believe."

Remus arched one brow. "When you can't hold down a job because you're a werewolf—and it's usually the latter of the two that pushes the lasses away, believe it or not—it's hard to find a date," he informed her. He lifted one shoulder in a half shrug and Ani's sharp eye caught the pain in the gesture that he tried to valiantly to hide. "After Elisabeth there really hasn't been anyone else—perhaps a few dates here and there, but I keep to myself mostly."

Ani longed to snarl at the mention of the other woman's name, but repressed it to a low, throaty growl. Remus eyed her warningly. "Don't start," he said. "I don't need to hear you say I told you so."

"That wasn't what I was thinking and you know it," Ani answered. "Besides, I would _never_ tell you I told you so."

"Not to my face," Remus countered.

She smiled, albeit reluctantly. "Fair enough."

They were quiet for a moment—the memory of the stupid blonde bitch in question hung low over Ani's head. Elisabeth Carterwell had attended Hogwarts with Ani and Remus: her father was a prominent negotiator with the Goblins' Union and she was the type of girl who wore pearls and silk blouses under her robes. Remus adored her, thanks to her brains: Ani couldn't stand her—James, Peter and Sirius Black had thought she was a cold fish at best. Even _Lily_, though she would never say so to Remus, had disliked Elisabeth, despite her friendly facade.

Remus had taken to seeing Elisabeth several months before the Potters' death and had thought the relationship had real potential. _Oh, how wrong he was, _Ani thought. The same old nasty anger and indignation still filled her lungs whenever she thought about the way things had ended when Remus had decided to tell Elisabeth the truth about his monthly illnesses. The woman that Remus was certain would accept him for who he was and love him unconditionally had spurned him and, in a matter of months, had been courted and married by Lucien Covelt.

Gods, how she hated that woman. There was no layer in hell deep enough to punish her for the pain Remus had felt. Ani could remember, even now, the nights spent sitting in her flat, nursing a glass of wine and watching Remus and Sirius Black play chess, Remus' eyes dark and sad.

"You deserved better than that, you know," Ani heard herself say to him now.

He looked up into her face. What she saw there nearly moved her to tears: pain, felt not for himself, but for her. "So did you," Remus told her quietly.

An old familiar pain burbled up and caught her by surprise. She leaned back in her chair, trying to abate the sensation. What had she expected? When it came right down to it, the wounds left by Sirius Black would never heal. "Well," she said, trying to brush it aside, "_you_ know that and _I_ know that, but I can't help but feel the gods feel a bit differently about it."

He tried to smile at her. "Surely you don't believe that."

"No," she lied quietly. "I guess I don't."

---

But Remus knew better.

Heart wrenched, he watched her run a finger absently along the rim of her teacup. She looked so lovely and heartbreakingly sad. Remus just couldn't have that—so he said the first thing that came to his mind and regretted it almost as soon as it left his lips.

"I've got a proposition for you."

It was worth it—despite the fact that he knew her excitement would be brief—to see her tilt her head to the side and smile at him in anticipation. "What's that?" Ani asked. "And if it gets me out of this house, the answer is already yes."

"Well, it might at that," he hedged.

Remus knew that he would have to be very careful when he finally got to discuss this idea. He remembered all too well the reaction Ani had the last time he'd brought up the subject at hand—albeit he'd been somewhat less than delicate then.

_Just take it slow,_ the voice that reminded him of James urged him. _What's the worst that could happen?_

_You obviously, _Remus thought wryly, _don't remember Ani very well, Prongs._

"So?" Ani asked. "What's the proposition?"

Remus stood up from his chair and moved around the kitchen, pretending to check on his shepherd's pie. "Well, like I said, the term starts in a few days… I'm going to wrap up my things in London and take the Hogwarts Express in with the students… You know," he hesitated, "get to know them a bit."

Ani snorted. "That's presuming you can stay awake long enough," she teased him. "I seem to recall our first year on the train and walking into a compartment to find you sound asleep with your face pressed up against the window."

"Well," Remus pressed on, gripping the reins of his courage, "I'm going to be busy for awhile, getting things set up at the school. But the first weekend, I thought you might want to come up and see the place… see Dumbledore and the others, perhaps."

"Sure," Ani said, blinking quizzically. "I would kind of like to talk about things with Dumbledore. That sounds fine, Remus."

_So far so good._ "I was also thinking," Remus continued carefully, "after I speak with him, of course, and explain some things to him… that you might like to get a chance to speak with Harry."

Silence. "He's at the school, you know," Remus went on uncertainly. "Starting his third year. He's in Gryffindor—McGonagall says he's just like James."

More silence. Then Ani's eyes went dark. _Well, that was brilliant_, Remus thought, and gripped the edge of the counter. His head still vaguely ached when he recalled the flare of magic that had sent him flying across Ani's kitchen. He had no desire to repeat the experience—especially now that Ani had been harnessing and honing her formerly rusty powers.

But to his mixed relief and disappointment, Ani simply shook her head and said quietly, "No, Remus."

His relief loosened his tongue. "But _why?"_ he heard himself ask plaintively. The words started to tumble from his mouth. "He's your godson, Ani. I understand that it hurts you to think about it—that it reminds you of… of Sirius, but next to Lily's sister, you're all he's got. He needs to know you, Ani."

"Is that why you think I don't want to see him?" Ani asked, her head snapping up, her eyes bright in her face. "Because of Sirius?"

Remus faltered. Lily and James had asked Ani and Sirius, respectively, to be Harry's godparents before the latter two had gotten engaged. He could remember young Ani, her face alight, laughing that she hoped she and Sirius didn't have a falling out, because they were linked to each other, like it or not. After the betrayal, that scene had played through his mind like a film reel. And after their last confrontation on the matter of the boy, Remus assumed that Ani simply didn't like being reminded that her godson was still linked to the man who'd ruined her life.

"I take it that's not the case, then?" Remus asked timidly.

But he had no reason to fear; all the spark and anger had gone out of Ani's eyes. He slumped. Now she simply looked weary and very, very sad.

"No, it's not," Ani answered. "I can see why you'd think it was, but it's honestly not."

"What is it, then?" he responded.

Ani tucked her elbows close to her sides, hugging them in. The result made her seem very, very small—and Ani, despite her tiny stature, did not often appear small.

"You remember how awful it was those first few days after Lily and James died," she began. "You and I were both… we were crazy with grief, Remus. And then Dumbledore told us that we weren't to see Harry—that it was for the best that we let Petunia raise him as a Muggle." Ani sighed and pushed a hard hand through her curls. "It was hard for you, I know—I have no doubt in my mind how much you adored the boy. But for me, to see the only part of my best friend I had left shipped off to live with the woman who made Lily's—and my—childhood miserable… There are no words to express that, Remus." Ani closed her eyes. "I'd only known the child for a year, and when he was gone, I already missed him desperately. The point of being a godmother is to take the child in and care for him when something happens to his parents. And because of Dumbledore—though I understand why—I couldn't do that. I feel like I failed Lily, somehow."

Remus, overwhelmed, longed to stand up and take Ani into his arms. He refrained, though. _It will only hurt_, he told himself. _For both of us._

"Is that all?" he asked her quietly.

Pain, so sharp it nearly leapt off her face, came over Ani's features. "No," she whispered, burying her head in her hands. "There's more than that."

He reached out and took her hand. "What else?" he asked in the same, low voice. He was suddenly aware—painfully so—that Ani had been unable to speak of this to anyone for the past twelve years. In her own way, she'd been as lonely as he was.

The thought made him want to weep.

"It's terrible," Ani said, her voice harsh with unshed tears, "but I'm terrified that if I saw him I wouldn't be able to look at him." She looked up in anguish and met Remus' eyes. "It's not the boy's fault, by any means, but my best friends _died_ for him." Her voice had reduced to a tormented whisper. "I'm scared that I'll look at him and feel nothing but pain and resentment towards him. I don't want to, Remus, but I'm scared that it won't matter."

The tears she had been unable to cry spilled over and down her cheeks. For the first time since their reunion, Remus saw how Ani had aged. Years of pain had created a deep well within her. These tears might never stop.

And though he knew it would hurt—he no longer cared—Remus stood up and walked over to Ani and wrapped her in his arms. She leaned into him and her silent sobs shook him to the core.

They stood that way for a long, long time.

---

Remus paced around his compartment on the Hogwarts Express, his hands shaky and clammy. Students rushed up and down the corridor, their happy shouts and greetings echoing through the train. He barely heard them.

_I just don't know that it's a good idea to tell him who you are, Remus._

_Why not?_

_He's so young—and if you tell him about you, you'll have to tell him about everyone else… about me, and about Sirius. And… Remus, I'm just not ready for that._

Glancing at his watch, Remus looked out the glass into the other part of the train. There were still several minutes until departure, and he'd yet to see the telltale dark hair and green eyes of the boy for which he was looking the hardest.

_It can't hurt, Ani._

_Yes, but will it really help, Remus?_

_I just want him to know about his parents—and who better to tell him than their friend? You know his aunt won't have told him any bit of the truth._

_Well, can you at least wait awhile? You're supposed to be his teacher: he needs to learn to accept you as that before he accepts you as his parents' friend. And as for me, the last thing he needs is to have another random adult thrown into his life._

_I suppose… but can't we…_

_At least give him a few months—he's going to be so busy with school and friends. Wait at least until Christmas? Maybe then I'll be ready._

_That long?_

He sat down by the window and let out a sigh. Remus knew that what Ani was saying made sense: there was no point in overwhelming the boy right off. And besides—when he _did_ get the chance to speak with Harry, the boy would be sure to ask why it had taken twelve years for Remus and Ani to come back into his life. And _that_ would bring up the old bitterness of the past.

Remus stifled a yawn and closed his eyes for a moment. Of the two of them, he'd handled the Potters' death worse than Ani. He knew that now. The years preceding Lily and James' death hadn't gone well for him. Remus' father had died suddenly and Sasha Lupin, stunned and grief-stricken, had passed shortly thereafter. And then, with the fiasco with Elisabeth, the death of his best friends, the betrayal of Sirius Black and the loss of Ani—Remus had sunken lower than he ever had before. But when Dumbledore told Remus and Ani that they were not to try to see little Harry… even thinking about it now ashamed him.

_Gods_ he was tired! The past sickness had taken more out of him than he'd realized. He felt his head beginning to nod off. He ought to read over his lesson plan one last time—but first, a quick nap… just for a moment…

He woke to a shudder and the frightened murmurs of children. The entire compartment was dark and cold—so, so cold.

A momentary wave of panic moved over Remus, but he quickly reigned himself in. There was something wrong, and his students were frightened. Their whispers heightened to a fevered pitch. One of them cried out, "Ouch!"

"Quiet," he ordered in a low voice. The children went silent immediately as he rummaged for his wand and shot silver flames into his palm. He held it up to view the members of the compartment. There was a round faced boy who looked eerily familiar; two red heads, one a tiny girl and the other a gangly boy with a long nose--they _had _to be Arthur Weasley's children; a startlingly pretty girl with a cloud of matted brown hair around her head; and a small, skinny boy with glasses and piercing green eyes.

_Harry._

Before he could get caught up in staring at his friends' long-lost son, a collective shiver ran through the compartment. From outside he heard a terrible, rattling sound that ought only to be heard in nightmares.

"Stay where you are," he instructed the children and moved for the door. But it was too late.

The dementor hovered in the doorway, its hooded figure silhouetted against the cold blue light from the rain-slick windows beyond. Horrible memories began to fill Remus' mind, but he forced them away. He thought of finally learning that Ani was alive—he thought about the years they'd spent together before, when everything was so happy.

Lupin jumped as a loud _thud_ echoed through the compartment. He looked down sharply to see Harry, his eyes rolled back into his head, lay twitching on the floor. His heart palpitated painfully—he knew what must have been going through the boy's mind. He must cease this.

"None of us are hiding Sirius Black under our cloaks. Go," he ordered. The dementor didn't move. Harnessing his happy memories, Remus shot his Patronus at the scaly, disgusting figure—the silver wolf trotted purposefully back to Remus and vanished.

"Harry!" the petite brunette cried out, kneeling on the floor. "Harry! Are you all right?"

She and the Weasley boy hauled Harry, who was coming around, back into his seat. Remus, shaken, turned back to his seat and rummaged through his bag. _Better safe than sorry,_ he thought, pulling out a huge hunk of Honeyduke's chocolate out of his bag. _I knew this would come in handy._

"Here," he said, breaking it into pieces and handing one to Harry. "Eat it. It'll help."

"What was that thing?" Harry asked him. Had Remus not been so concerned—honestly, a dementor on a train full of children!—he would have smiled. The boy even _sounded_ like James.

He handed some chocolate to the other children. "A dementor," he explained. "One of the dementors of Azkaban." He folded up the empty wrapper and looked around at the kids' pale, scared faces. "Eat," he repeated, pointing to the chocolate. "It'll help. I need to speak to the driver, excuse me…"

Hands trembling, he slipped out of the compartment and strode purposefully to the front of the train. He burst into the driver's compartment and said, "Is everything all right up here?"

The toad-like driver looked shaken. "We're fine," he said. "A dementor came in to do a search and I couldn't keep driving. I had to stop the train. Are the children hurt, Professor Lupin?"

"No," Remus answered. "The students are fine." He reached for the Emergency Owl cage where a ruffled looking barn owl sat hooting disconsolately. He hastily scrawled on two pieces of parchment—one for Minerva McGonagall, to warn her of the fit Harry had taken, and one for Ani, to warn her to stay indoors at least until morning. Not many wizards had ever been forced to deal with dementors, and Ani's fledgling powers were no use against the dementors.

Leaning out the window, he sent the owl zooming ahead in the direction of Hogwarts. "How much longer until we reach the school?" Remus asked the driver. "The kids are a bit frightened."

"Ten minutes, Professor Lupin."

"Thank you."

He went back to the compartment to find the kids sitting around somberly, their chocolate clutched firmly in their fists. Harry in particular looked weak and shaky. Remus tried to produce what he hoped was a comforting smile. "I haven't poisoned that chocolate, you know," he advised them.

They each took a bite and instantly their faces brightened a bit. "We'll be at Hogwarts in ten minutes," Remus told the kids. He hesitated, then looked down at James and Lily's son. "Are you all right, Harry?"

The boy's face darkened. "Fine," he muttered.

They sat in silence for almost the entire way back to Hogwarts, and when the train finally pulled to a stop, they filed somberly into the rain. Remus watched as Harry and his two friends got into one of the horseless carriages and closed the door behind them. He wearily climbed into his own carriage and leaned wearily against the door.

This year might be longer than he'd thought.


	10. Back to Hogsmeade

**Disclaimer: **If I owned Harry Potter, you'd be reading this in a fat leather-bound book… not on your computer screen.

**Author's Note:** Okay. Before you all flip out, please forgive my hiatus. It's inexcusable—school is just really burning me out. And I know this installment is short—too short, I know. When I make the composite story, I will probably combine this chapter with the next one. But I wanted to give you at least something to work with. So again, forgive me. Soon I'll have more time to write, I promise. I hope this will suffice until then.

* * *

Hogsmeade. 

He knew there was a village near before he'd known which it was. The vast sea of scents that cling to a village caught his sensitive nose miles and miles away and told him to head west. And as he drew closer, the memories of his childhood associated with those scents started to swarm him.

_Butterbeer and firewhisky from the Three Broomsticks… the acrid smell of explosive powder emanating from Zonko's…and the sweet, sticky smell of every kind of chocolate imaginable rising from Honeydukes._

Sirius' mouth watered and he tried to ignore the ache in his stomach. His paws pounded the ground as he trotted purposefully towards the mouth-watering scents of Hogsmeade. When he got into the village, he'd see if he could get some scraps from the villagers before heading up into the Hogwarts' grounds. Ever since being spotted in Havershire—the damn Muggle woman had screamed so loud that he thought his eardrums would shatter—he dare not be seen in his true form.

_Then again,_ he thought ruefully, _people are more likely to give food to an unkempt dog than to an unkempt man. Not that my face would be welcome in Hogsmeade, anyway._

He picked up his pace. Through the trees he could see a clearing and the beginning of a path, and the sight caused his heart to jump. After all this time, he was finally closer to Hogwarts than he'd been in ages. The sweet taste of revenge pricked the back of his throat. Soon he would find Peter. Soon he would extort his confession. And soon his name would be cleared. Soon. Soon. Soon.

James and Lily's faces swam in front of his vision. Were he in human form, he'd have pushed them physically away. Now all he could do was use their image to fuel his rage.

_I've waited so long… and it's almost over. Just a bit more patience._

The tree cover broke and he walked slowly into the sunlight, blinking against the sudden brightness. A quick scan told him he was on the far east side of the village—he could barely see the north end where the train station lay on the edge of the great lake. All the shops were further into town. Very well. He would run in, grab something to eat—maybe from an unsuspecting villager… no one would suspect a thing—and then, on to Hogwarts.

He started forward, determined, his heart racing. A sudden noise to his right, however, sent him scurrying back into the trees—even as a dog, there were dangers around him. And there would not always be, he reminded himself, a Tirzah to save him. Settling on his haunches behind a particularly large elm, he peeked around to see what had startled him so.

What he saw stopped his heart.

_Oh my God…_

It had to be a dream. It _had _to be. Or could it be that after all these years it would be so easy? Could his heart's longing truly be placed before him, close enough to touch? Could the gods themselves have heard his silent, aching prayers and deigned to answer them?

_Could this really be happening? This could not be happening!_

But happening it was. It was no dream. And so it was that Sirius Black, trembling, watched as the door to a tiny, ivy-covered cottage slammed shut and Ani—the woman he'd loved for more than half of his life; the woman whose face had filled his mind every time he closed his eyes—stood in her garden, flowers reaching out their arms to welcome her.

**The End of Part One  
**


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